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BURT  EDWARD  BURROUGHS 

AMONG  THE   EARLIEST  OF  THE  WHITE   CHILDREN   BORN   IN 
THE  DOMAIN  OF  THE  POTTAWATTOMIE,  AT  "SUGAR  ISLAND," 
ON  THE  IROQUOIS  RIVER,  JUST  OVER  THE  LINE   IN  KANKA- 
KEE  COUNTY 


LEGENDS 

AND 

TALES  OF  HOMELAND 

ON 

The  KANKAKEE 


BY 
BURT  E.  BURROUGHS 


REGAN  PRINTING  HOUSE 
Chicago     :    :     :     :     :     1923 


Copyright,  1923,  by 

BURT  E.  BURROUGHS 

Kankakee,  111. 


JH 


oo 


<HT363 


(j—  To  the  Memory  of 

The  Pioneer  Men  and  Women 
6  of  Kankakee  County, 

Among  Whom  Were  Numbered 

Mv  Jfatfcer  anb  Jflotijer 

This  Volume  is  Reverently  Dedicated 
By  the  Author 


v 

i 

Tn 
% 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign 


http://archive.org/details/legendstalesofhoOOburr 


PREFACE 

Every  book  has  a  preface — at  least,  it  should  have. 
It  is  recognized  as  a  sort  of  sanctuary  wherein  an  author 
welcomes  the  world  at  large  in  the  spirit  of  friendly 
intimacy,  to  confide  to  them  something  of  his  hopes  and 
longings,  to  confess  shortcomings  and  deficiencies,  and, 
incidentally,  to  give  a  reason,  if  such  a  thing  is  possible, 
for  doing  it  at  all.  In  these  luxurious  times  the  Pioneer  of 
the  old  days  looms  as  a  commanding,  outstanding  figure 
in  our  National  history.  Though  he  sometimes  lacked  in 
"polish,"  yet  he  towered  in  manly  strength  and  the 
quality  of  his  fiber  none  may  gainsay.  A  few  years 
more  and  a  century  will  have  elapsed  since  the  first  white 
man  settled  in  Kankakee  county.  Our  yesterdays  have 
trickled  from  the  hand  of  Father  Time  even  as  the  sands 
fall  from  the  hour-glass  and  these  unrecorded  days  have 
carried  with  them  into  the  realm  of  "time  that  was," 
memories  of  many  an  incident,  many  a  legend  and  tale 
of  pioneer  days  beyond  all  possibility  of  recall,  which 
we  cannot  but  deeply  deplore.  To  preserve  some  small 
part  of  this  inheritance  of  our  pioneer  ancestors  for 
future  generations  while  yet  the  opportunity  remains, 
seems  to  me  a  worthy  task,  one  that  might  well  enlist 
the  efforts  of  any  citizen  with  the  inclination  and  the 
leisure  to  devote  to  it. 

Frankly,  this  is  not  a  volume  of  biographical  sketches. 
I  have  tried  faithfully  to  make  it  just  what  the  title  im- 
plies, a  volume  of  Legends  and  Tales  of  life  in  the  early 
days  of  our  fathers  and  mothers  in  the  Valley  of  the 
Kankakee,  touching  upon  many  things  curious,  unusual 
and  out  of  the  ordinary,  that  are  truly  worth  preserving. 


PREFACE 


In  carrying  out  this  work,  during  the  greater  part  of  one 
summer  I  have  prowled  in  by-ways  and  out-of-the-way 
places  and  ransacked,  as  opportunity  offered,  the  re- 
cesses of  many  a  memory,  always  to  find  some  charming 
bit  of  "forgotten  lore,"  much  after  the  manner  of  the 
seeker  of  antiques,  who  invades  the  cob-webbed,  dust- 
enshrouded  sanctity  of  some  old-time  attic  to  find,  al- 
ways, some  odd,  rare  thing  on  which  Time  has  placed  his 
seal,  which  gives  one  a  thrill,  a  shock  most  delightful, 
and  which  makes  it  all  worth  while. 

More  than  once  have  I  had  occasion  to  regret  the  evi- 
dent apathy  and  indifference  whereby  the  life  stories  of 
early  settlers  such  as  Noel  LeVasseur,  Dominick  Bray, 
of  Bourbonnais,  A.  S.  Vail,  of  Momence,  John  B.  Hay- 
hurst,  of  Yellowhead,  Henry  Lowe,  of  Aroma,  and  many 
other  of  our  citizens,  were  lost  to  the  generation  of  today. 
What  a  heritage  of  fact,  legend  and  story  of  the  old  days 
these  men  could  have  bequeathed  to  us — these  men  who 
lived  neighbors  to  the  P Ottawa ttomies !  The  past  is  not 
wholly  lost;  thanks  to  the  conscientious  efforts  of  those 
who  recorded  the  salient  features  of  that  time.  But 
much  of  the  legend,  gossip  and  small  talk  that  passed 
current  at  the  firesides  of  our  pioneer  ancestors,  tales 
of  social  life  and  of  acts  inspired  by  the  rugged  hardi- 
hood of  the  backwoodsman  of  that  day,  acts  savoring  of 
both  good  and  ill,  are  only  to  be  encountered  today  in 
the  event  that  kindly  fortune  directs  you  to  someone 
whose  recollection  lights  up  with  memories,  shadowy  and 
elusive,  like  the  pale,  wan  flame  of  burned  out  fires. 

It  is  with  pleasure  that  I  acknowledge  herein  the  aid, 
encouragement  and  unfailing  kindliness  of  our  last  re- 
maining nonagenarian,  Mr.  Judson  Nichols,  who  re- 
sponded most  graciously  to  the  call  for  help  in  preserving 
the  memory  of  old   days.      To   Mr.   Nichols   I   owe  an 


PREFACE 

especial  debt  of  gratitude  and  appreciation.  At  the  age 
of  ninety-five  years,  having  spent  eighty-one  years  in 
Kankakee  county,  his  marvelous  memory,  keen,  alert  and 
unimpaired,  has  supplied  many  an  interesting  detail  of 
early  pioneer  life.  He,  alone,  has  made  possible  fully 
one-third  of  the  sketches  contained  herein  besides  supply- 
ing a  resume  of  pioneer  life  in  general  of  the  times  of 
the  early  forties,  which  the  reader  will  find  abounding 
in  interesting  detail.  I  have  felt  in  a  marked  degree  the 
stimulus  of  his  kindly  interest  and  whole-souled  co-opera- 
tion and,  in  return,  I  can  only  wish  that,  for  him,  still 
other  years  may  fall  to  his  lot,  years  tempered  with  quiet 
content  and  happiness  such  as  characterize  life  for  him 
today. 

"Legends,"  as  applied  to  some  of  the  tales  contained 
herein,  seems  happily  suited  to  the  purpose,  perhaps  for 
the  reason  that  it  is  a  term  of  generous  adaptability,  a 
token  by  which  we  recognize  that  the  past  conveys  to  us 
something  of  the  dread  secrets  it  holds — of  love  and 
tragedy,  pleasure  and  disappointment,  success  and  fail- 
ure, all  of  which  are  elements  entering  into  the  sum 
total  of  human  life — without  holding  the  narrator  thereof 
to  too  strict  accountability.  I  believe  it  is  Amy  Lowell 
who  has  said  most  truly:  "A  legend  is  something  that 
nobody  has  written  and  which  everybody  has  written, 
and  which  anybody  is  at  liberty  to  rewrite."  This  much 
may  be  said  of  the  legends  contained  herein;  they  have, 
at  least,  the  substance  of  fact  to  commend  them,  whether 
you  may  happen  to  approve  of  the  manner  in  which 
they  have  been  presented  or  not.  Sometimes,  when  mem- 
ory wavered,  and  was  not  quite  sure  of  certain  things, 
other  memories  were  consulted.  Memory  has  been 
checked  against  memory,  and  the  limited  historical  data, 
such  as  Kankakee  county  has  that  is  available,  invoked  to 


PREFACE 


establish,  where  possible,  a  multitude  of  vexatious  "little 
things"  quite  indispensable  to  the  text  of  certain  stories. 

I  have  deemed  it  fitting  to  preface  the  matter  herein 
with  brief  sketches  of  the  discovery  of  the  great  middle 
west  by  the  French.  It  is  a  wonderful  story,  this  story 
of  the  early-day  French,  having  its  beginning  in  the  first 
days  of  the  17th  century,  and  about  which  play  all  the 
roseate  hues  of  medievalism,  the  glamour  of  romance  of 
the  brilliant  court  of  that  most  dazzling  of  monarchs, 
Louis  XIV,  the  whole  touched  by  the  somber  shadow  of 
the  missionary,  "The  Black-Robed  Father." 

No  small  part  of  the  ancient  glory  that  was  rests  upon 
the  Valley  of  the  Kankakee  and  the  Kankakee  river, 
which  was  an  important  integral  part  of  the  great  water- 
way which  stretched  across  the  continent.  We  have  been 
tardy,  perhaps,  in  our  recognition  and  appreciation  of 
the  value  of  this  great  historical  inheritance  of  ours  which, 
like  a  rare  painting,  preserves  to  us,  amid  its  high-lights 
and  shadows,  visions  of  toiling  processions  made  up  of 
the  picturesque  voyageur,  the  roystering  coureur  de  bois, 
the  stately  presence  of  the  King's  emissary,  and  the  ever- 
present  "Black-Robe,"  whose  ghostly  campfires,  when 
we  dream,  still  seem  to  light  the  cavernous  depths  of  the 
forests,  and  whose  voices  still  speak  to  us  in  a  patois 
more  or  less  familiar,  from  queer,  ancient  tomes  of  that 
far-off  day. 

Burt  E.  Burroughs. 


Kankakee,  III.,  June  10,  1923. 


APPRECIATION 

In  the  preparation  of  this  volume  many  sources  have 
been  drawn  upon  and  many  individuals  consulted.  Dr. 
Benjamin  F.  Uran,  a  Native  son  of  Kankakee  county, 
than  whom,  I  know  of  none  more  widely  or  deeply  versed 
in  the  lore  of  the  pioneer  of  County  and  State,  has  placed 
at  my  disposal  the  vast  resources  at  his  command,  and 
that  without  reserve.  Born  of  parents  whose  pioneership 
in  Kankakee  county  was  contemporary  with  that  of  the 
earliest  settlers,  Dr.  Uran  has  observed  closely  and,  by 
means  of  a  remarkably  retentive  memory,  accumulated 
an  unusual  store  of  local  historical  data,  traditions, 
legends  and  tales  of  the  early  days,  among  which  I  have 
fairly  reveled.  He  has  been  helpful,  generously  so  for 
a  busy  man,  a  sort  of  help  that  has  proven  of  incalcu- 
lable value  in  preparing  a  work  of  this  description.  To 
Dr.  Uran  I  feel  deeply  grateful  for  many  a  tip  and 
pointer;  for  many  a  helpful  suggestion  and  criticism; 
and,  not  least  of  all,  for  a  friendly  word  of  encourage- 
ment now  and  then,  and  a  kindly  pat  on  the  back.  As  the 
President  of  the  Kankakee  County  Historical  Society, 
Dr.  Uran  has  rendered  to  the  City  and  the  County  a  most 
unique  and  valuable  service. 

To  Mr.  Charles  Tebeault,  of  West  Station  Street,  I 
am  indebted  for  information  regarding  the  personnel  of 
that  unique  French  settlement,  of  the  LeVia  reserva- 
tion, which  was  known  for  many  years  as  "Little  Can- 
ada." This,  happily,  he  supplied  from  memory,  together 
with  other  data  whereby  it  was  made  possible  to  give 
something  of  the  intimate  touch,  something  of  the  at- 
mosphere of  "Habitant"  life,  reflecting  as  it  did  in  that 


APPRECIATION 


early  day,  evidences  of  that  paternalism  with  which  the 
good  Louis  XIV  surrounded  his  Canadian  subjects. 

It  is  with  pleasure  that  I  acknowledge,  herewith,  the 
kindly  interest  and  helpfulness  of  Mr.  Elias  Powell,  Mr. 
Eugene  Enos,  Mr.  Worth  Bird,  Mr.  R.  A.  Hewitt,  Mr. 
Frank  Chapman,  of  Kankakee;  Mrs.  Kendall,  Mr.  Ross 
Beebe,  Mr.  Thomas  Sharkey,  of  Momence;  Mrs.  Lyons, 
of  Sherburnville ;  Mr.  Peter  B.  Strickler,  of  Iroquois, 
now  deceased;  Mr.  Martin  VanderKarr,  Mr.  Byrns  and 
Mr.  Henry  Y.  Swan,  of  Aroma  Park.  Many  there  are 
who,  in  one  way  or  another,  have  contributed  their  mite 
to  the  sum  total  of  this  work  and  to  all  such  I  extend 
sincere  thanks  and  the  assurance  of  grateful  appreciation. 


Burt  E.  Burroughs. 


CONTENTS 

The  Trail  of  the  King's  Highway 1 

The  Coming  of  the  French  to  the  Valley  of  the  Kankakee. .     12 

Pioneer  Life  on  the  Kankakee  Eighty  Years  Ago 23 

Mark  Beaubien's  Story  of  the  Man  Who  Burned  Up 35 

The  First  Threshing  Machine  Brought  to  Kankakee  County    40 

"Shaw-wa-na-see's"  Village  of  Little  Rock 43 

An  Old-Time  "Turkey  Shoot,"  on  the  Kankakee 49 

Hunting  the  Wolf  on  Horseback 55 

A  Double  Wedding  at  Limestone  in  the  Year  1842 58 

The  Forge  on  the  Prairie 64 

Early-Day  Dances  at  the  Davis  Home 68 

The  Old  Rinosa  Postoffice 78 

Taxation  a  Burden  on  the  Early  Settler 81 

The  "Bogus  Island"  Horse  Thief  Ring 83 

Limestone  Votes  Bonds  for  War  Bounties 95 

The  Cholera  Epidemic  of  1851 101 

The  County-Seat  Election  of  1853 104 

The  Letter  That  Never  Came 113 

Removing  a  Kiss  with  Soft  Soap 117 

The  Eccentric  Dan  Parmlee 119 

A  Notable  War-Time  Dance  and  Oyster  Supper 121 

The  First  Shopper  on  Court  Street 125 

When  the  First  Locomotive  Came  to  Kankakee 129 

Billy  Caldwell,  "The  Sau-ga-nash" 133 


CONTENTS 


Chief  "Shaub-e-nee,"  The  Grand   Old  Man 137 

The  Exodus  of  the  Pottawattomie  Nation 142 

The  Old  Hubbard  Trail 148 

Kankakee  County's  First  Fourth  of  July  Celebration 157 

A  Death  and  Burial  at  "Leggtown" 160 

Kankakee's  First  Sunday  School  Excursion 166 

Dominick  Bray,  Voyageur,  Trader,  Citizen 170 

The  Story  of  "Little  Canada" 183 

When  Young  Folks  Danced  Over  in  Little  Canada 188 

Walking  as  a  Lost  Art 195 

The    Papoose's    Cradle 200 

The  Coming  Together  of  the  76th  Regiment  and  Tommy 
Gorman    205 

When  the  First  Buggy  Came  to  Kankakee  County 209 

"For  They  Were  Jolly  Good  Fellows" 216 

A  Tale  of  Old  Kankakee 219 

Outliving  a  Shroud 224 

In  the  Good  Old  Days  of  the  Ox  Team 228 

Hubbard's  Fight  with  Chief  Yellow  Head 234 

"Watch-e-kee's"    Prophecy 239 

"As  It  Was  in  the  Beginning" 256 

Pioneers  Three  and  a  Horse  Trade 260 

A  Unique  Pioneer  Character 265 

The  Recollections  of  a  Nonagenarian 269 

Historical  Flotsam  and  Jetsam 272 


The  Trail  of  the  King's  Highway 

O'er  the  water,  floating,  flying, 
Something  in  the  hazy  distance, 
Something  in  the  mists  of  morning, 
Loomed  and  lifted  from  the  water, 
Now  seemed  floating,  now  seemed  flying, 
Coming  nearer,  nearer,  nearer. 

Was  it  Shingebis,  the  diver? 
Or  the  pelican,  the  Shada  ? 
Or  the  Heron,  the  Shuh-shuh-gah  ? 
Or  the  White  Goose,  Waw-be-wawa, 
With  the  water  dripping,  flashing, 
From  its  glossy  neck  and  feathers  ? 

It  was  neither  goose  nor  diver, 
Neither  pelican  nor  heron, 
O'er  the  water  floating,  flying, 
Through  the  shining  mist  of  morning, 
But  a  birch  canoe  with  paddles, 
Rising,  sinking  on  the  water, 
Dripping,  flashing  in  the  sunshine; 
And  within  it  came  a  people 
From  the  distant  land  of  Wau-bun, 
From  the  farthest  realms  of  morning 
Came  the  Black-Robe  Chief,  the  Prophet, 
He  the  Priest  of  Prayer,  the  Pale-face, 
With  his  guides  and  his  companions. 

— Longfellow's  Song  of  Hiawatha. 

Deep  in  the  heart  of  the  North  American 
continent,  fashioned  and  moulded  by  those 
titanic  forces  of  the  universe,  of  which  we  have 


LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 


but  faint  knowledge  or  conception,  an  all-wise 
providence  ordered,  apparently,  as  if  by  spe- 
cific plan  and  direction,  a  system  of  lakes  and 
mighty  rivers,  connected,  for  the  most  part, 
and  forming  a  continuous  waterway  (with  the 
exception  of  several  short  portages),  from  the 
Gulf  of  the  St.  Lawrence  southwest  across 
the  United  States  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 
From  the  earliest  times  this  vast  water  system 
was  regarded  by  the  simple-minded  aborigines 
as  evidence  that  the  Great  Spirit,  or  "Mani- 
tou,"  by  whom  it  was  created,  looked  upon 
his  children  with  especial  favor.  By  them  it 
was  alluded  to  as  "the  great  mystery,"  through 
which  the  beneficence  of  the  Great  Spirit  was 
constantly  shown  towards  them.  By  means  of 
its  far-flung  ramifications  their  light  birch- 
bark  canoes  were  borne  easily  many,  many 
suns  distant,  into  beautiful  lands  where  the 
rigors  of  winter  were  unknown,  where  wild 
fruits  grew  abundantly  in  the  forests,  and 
where,  on  the  limitless  prairies,  roamed  at  will 
vast  herds  of  the  buffalo,  elk  and  deer.  As  if 
in  acknowledgment  of  added  benefactions  of 
the  Great  Spirit,  there  were  times  when  the 
Indian  patriarch,  addressing  the  white  man, 
assured  him  in  language  simple,  direct,  elo- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 3 

quent,  "From  out  the  far-off  land  of  morning 
the  shining  water  has  brought  you,  our  Brother 
of  the  Black-Robe." 

This  inland  waterway  has  borne  a  stupend- 
ous part  in  the  development  of  the  country 
since  the  early  days  of  the  17th  century,  when 
the  first  white  men,  the  French  coureurs  de 
bois,  moved  by  the  irresistible  charm  of  the 
virgin  wilderness,  and  the  love  of  adventure 
and  life  among  the  aborigines,  threaded  its 
ways  and  penetrated  deeper  and  deeper  into 
the  mysteries  of  the  land.  Thus  it  was  that  this 
great  inland  waterway  or  "King's  Highway," 
became  intimately  associated  with  the  move- 
ments of  the  early-day  discoverers,  the  white 
men,  who  first  set  foot  in  the  great  valley  of 
the  Kankakee. 

This  old,  much-traveled  land  and  water  trail, 
which  connects  the  frozen  reaches  of  Canada, 
the  wonderful  region  of  the  Mississippi,  and 
the  balmy  clime  of  the  south,  is  rich  in  the 
legendary  lore  of  the  Indian,  abounding  in 
tales  of  hardihood  and  adventure  on  the  part 
of  the  coureurs  de  bois,  and  of  heroic  self- 
sacrifices  and  martyrdoms  on  the  part  of  the 
"Paleface  of  the  Black-Robe,"  the  Jesuit 
Fathers,  who,  first  of  all,  brought  to  the  sav- 


LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 


age  dwellers  of  the  wilderness  the  light  of 
Christianity.  The  gray-robed  Franciscans  were 
the  first  to  undertake  the  work,  but  were  soon 
followed  by  the  Jesuits,  who,  during  a  period 
of  nearly  one  hundred  years,  prosecuted  their 
conquest  of  the  evil  spirits  of  the  wilderness, 
until  their  outposts  dotted  finally  the  country 
of  the  Illinois,  and  the  lower  stretches  of  the 
Mississippi  to  the  Gulf. 

A  peculiar  fascination  attaches  to  this  great 
highway  and  the  movements  of  the  coureur  de 
bois,  the  voyageur  and  the  Jesuit  who  came 
in  and  possessed  the  land.  Launching  their 
light  birch-bark  canoes  in  the  waters  of  the 
St.  Lawrence,  at  the  base  of  the  towering  rock 
at  Quebec,  they  proceeded  thence  to  Lake 
Ontario,  skirting  its  eastern  and  southern 
shores  until  the  Niagara  river  was  reached; 
passing  up  the  river,  they  made  a  portage 
around  the  great  falls  of  Niagara,  and  con- 
tinued on  to  Lake  Erie,  following  its  northern 
shore  west  to  the  Detroit  river,  by  the  river 
to  Lake  St.  Clair,  the  St.  Clair  river  to  Lake 
Huron,  and  thence  north  until  Michillimack- 
inac,  at  the  apex  of  the  Michigan  peninsula, 
was  reached.  Michillimackinac,  in  the  early 
days  of  the  French  and  the  fur  trade,  was  a 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 5 

most  important  place.  Here  the  trail  divided. 
Those  headed  for  the  "Country  of  the  Illinois," 
followed  the  eastern  shore  line  of  Lake 
Michigan,  until  coming  to  where  St.  Joseph, 
Michigan,  is  today  located,  they  entered  the 
St.  Joseph  river  and,  continuing  to  where  the 
present  city  of  South  Bend,  Indiana,  is  located, 
disembarked  and  made  a  portage  of  nearly 
five  miles  to  the  Kankakee  swamps,  wherein 
the  Kankakee  river  takes  its  rise.  At  the  con- 
fluence of  the  Kankakee  and  the  DesPlaines, 
which  unite  and  form  the  river  of  the  Illinois, 
the  traveler  found  himself  in  the  famed 
"Country  of  the  Illinois,"  with  its  vast  fertile 
areas  teeming  with  buffalo,  wild  game  of  all 
kinds,  wild  fruits,  a  country  fair  and  most 
pleasing  to  look  upon,  if  we  may  trust  the 
written  testimony  of  many  a  travel-worn 
"Father  of  the  Black-Robe."  Once  launched 
upon  the  waters  of  the  Illinois,  there  was  no 
impediment  to  travel  to  the  "Great  Father  of 
Waters,"  the  Mississippi,  and  thence  to  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico. 

The  other  route  from  Michillimackinac  to 
the  Mississippi  lay  to  the  southwest,  across 
Lake   Michigan,   the   objective   being   Green 


LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 


Bay,  Wisconsin,  and  thence  south  to  its  south- 
ernmost point  where,  for  many  years,  a  mis- 
sion was  maintained.  From  Green  Bay,  by 
means  of  the  Fox  river  and  a  portage  of  nine 
miles,  the  Wisconsin  river  was  reached,  and 
by  means  of  it  the  Mississippi. 

There  was  still  another  route  which  was 
largely  used  by  those  coming  into  the  country 
of  the  Illinois.  Passing  the  St.  Joseph  river, 
on  the  eastern  side  of  Lake  Michigan,  and 
continuing  around  the  southern  bend  of  the 
lake  and  up  the  western  shore,  the  voyageur 
came  upon  the  Chicago  river,  by  means  of 
which  and  its  south  branch,  and  a  portage  of 
a  few  miles,  he  was  enabled  to  reach  the  Des- 
Plaines  river,  which,  uniting  with  the  Kanka- 
kee, forms  the  Illinois.  This  route  was  much 
used  by  parties  making  the  return  trip,  either 
to  Green  Bay  or  Quebec.  Father  Marquette, 
returning  from  a  visit  to  the  mission  of  La 
Conception,  which  he  had  located  a  few  years 
before  among  the  Illinois,  at  or  near  the  junc- 
tion of  the  Kankakee  and  the  DesPlaines,  was 
taken  seriously  ill  on  the  Chicago  portage  and 
was  obliged  to  spend  the  greater  part  of  the 
winter  of  1674-5  there.  The  rude  hut  which 
his  men  provided  for  him  was  the  first  white 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 7 

habitation  erected  on  the  site  of  the  City  of 
Chicago. 

This  highway,  during  the  period  of  occupa- 
tion by  the  Jesuits,  extending  from  about  1625 
to  1725,  principally  under  the  reign  of  the 
brilliant  Louis  XIV  of  France,  never  held 
anything  in  the  way  of  mission  buildings  except 
of  a  most  primitive  character,  which  have  long 
since  passed  out  of  existence.  But  one  thing 
the  Jesuit  Fathers  did  do.  They  kept  diaries 
and  wrote  profusely  of  their  work  among  the 
Indians,  to  which  they  had  consecrated  their 
lives  with  an  enthusiasm  and  white-hot  zeal 
which  excites  the  profoundest  admiration  in 
this  day.  These  written  records  of  the  various 
Fathers  stationed  along  the  line  of  this  great 
waterway  were  yearly  transmitted  to  the 
Superior  of  the  order,  at  Quebec.  It  was  a 
great  event  in  the  life  of  the  priest  when  he 
was  permitted  to  bear  these  records  in  person 
to  headquarters  at  Quebec,  for,  in  addition  to 
the  respite  from  the  arduous  duties  he  was 
obliged  to  observe  toward  his  dusky  charges, 
there  was  the  opportunity  to  meet  other  work- 
ers, fresh  from  the  fields  of  the  wilderness,  and 
compare  notes.  For  others,  farther  out  along 
the  way,  it  was  a  rare  privilege,  indeed,  to  get 


LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 


to  make  the  coveted  trip,  and  often  the  precious 
diary  which  told  the  story  of  the  quest  of  souls 
in  the  wilderness,  for  lack  of  paper  was  com- 
mitted to  thin  sheets  of  birch-bark,  by  means 
of  ink  made  from  gunpowder.  This  diary  was 
wrapped  securely  in  a  portion  of  the  Father's 
cassock,  or  sewed  in  a  covering  of  hide,  and 
given  into  the  hands  of  an  Indian  runner  who, 
following  the  great  inland  highway  of  river, 
lake  and  portage,  threading  by  day  the  dark 
aisles  of  the  primeval  forests,  arrived  at  last 
in  the  shadow  of  the  great  rock  on  the  St. 
Lawrence. 

These  field  notes,  from  the  many  missionaries 
scattered  throughout  the  length  of  this  internal 
highway,  were  carefully  edited,  and,  where 
necessary,  re- written  and  made  readable  by  the 
Superior  of  the  order,  and  then  by  him  trans- 
mitted to  the  Superior-General  of  the  order  in 
Paris,  France.  There,  during  a  continuous 
period  extending  over  forty  years,  these  notes, 
detailing  the  work  and  experiences  of  the 
Fathers,  laboriously  collated  on  the  trail,  and 
in  Indian  wigwams  amid  the  squalor  and  con- 
fusion so  often  encountered  there,  were  pub- 
lished under  the  title  of  "The  Jesuit  Relations." 
These  volumes  were  issued  from  the  press  of 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 9 

Sebastian  Cramoisy,  Paris,  under  a  patent  of 
authority  from  Louis  XIV,  and  comprise,  in 
their  entirety,  forty  small  volumes  in  all. 

The  first  of  this  remarkable  series  of  "Rela- 
tions" was  issued  in  1632,  and  the  last  in  1672. 
This  was  an  era  of  the  imagination,  to  which 
was  added  a  religious  enthusiasm  of  surpass- 
ing depth  and  volume.  In  certain  quarters  it 
was  an  age  of  materialism  as  well,  for  France, 
under  "Louis  the  Magnificent,"  had  made 
marvelous  strides  in  material  prosperity,  and 
the  addition  of  a  new  world  to  the  domain  of 
France,  with  its  unlimited  wealth  and  possi- 
bilities, tended  to  make  every  scrap  of  infor- 
mation, even  to  the  stories  of  the  missionaries, 
of  their  work  in  Christianizing  the  aborigines, 
to  be  seized  upon  and  devoured  with  avidity 
by  all  classes,  from  the  Court  down.  Thus,  the 
"Relations,"  or  narratives  of  the  Fathers,  in 
that  far-away  field  of  the  new  world,  served 
to  enlighten  the  populace  and  bring  comfort 
to  the  hearts  of  the  zealous,  until  changing  con- 
ditions and  varying  fortunes  of  France  in  the 
years  following,  caused  increasing  restrictions 
to  be  placed  upon  the  operations  of  the  Jesuits, 
resulting,  finally,  in  the  elimination  of  the  order 


10 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

from  the  field  in  which  they  had  so  long  labored. 
Strange  to  say,  the  publications  known  as  "The 
Relations,"  lapsed  into  complete  oblivion  that 
lasted  for  nearly  two  hundred  years. 

But  these  unique  records,  written  in  the 
blood  of  martyrs,  were  nevertheless  destined  to 
stand  as  a  monument  to  their  memory.  Some- 
thing over  half  a  century  ago,  Dr.  John  Gil- 
mary  Shea  and  James  O'Callaghan,  who  were 
engaged  in  securing  data  bearing  on  the  early 
history  of  the  state  of  New  York,  while  explor- 
ing the  archives  of  the  old  Jesuit  Mission  at 
Quebec,  brought  to  light  several  copies  of  "The 
Jesuit  Relations,"  products  of  the  Cramoisy 
press  of  Paris.  The  great  historical  value  of 
these  works  was  at  once  apparent,  for,  while 
the  Fathers  dwelt  at  great  length,  and  gave 
in  minute  detail  the  facts  concerning  the  con- 
version and  subsequent  conduct  of  their  dusky 
neophytes,  as  well  as  detailing  some  of  the 
hardships  that  fell  to  their  lot,  and  of  life  in 
the  Indian  wigwam,  there  was  an  occasional 
digression,  to  record  some  of  the  wonders  of 
the  wilderness,  the  plains,  the  lakes,  the  rivers, 
and  the  leading  physical  characteristics  of  the 
country  in  which  they  operated.   These  digres- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 11 

sions  were  often  brief,  in  many  cases  only  a 
bare  mention  of  most  interesting  things. 

Dr.  Shea,  with  the  enthusiasm  of  the  true 
bibliophile,  brought  to  the  attention  of  the 
founder  of  the  great  Lenox  library,  of  New 
York,  his  wonderful  discovery  of  these  works 
of  antiquity,  which  touched  so  vitally  the  early 
history  of  the  United  States.  The  work  of 
collecting  the  complete  set  of  forty  volumes 
was  immediately  undertaken,  but  it  required 
years  of  unremitting  labor  and  the  expenditure 
of  thousands  of  dollars  ere  the  task  was  accom- 
plished. Today,  Lenox  library  has  the  only 
complete  set  of  "The  Relations,"  in  the  orig- 
inal of  the  Cramoisy  press,  to  be  found  in  the 
United  States.  These  books  bear  mute  evi- 
dence of  the  great  interest  they  inspired  in 
that  far-off  day  in  France,  for,  in  many  in- 
stances, the  text  is  so  thumbed  and  worn  as 
to  be  scarcely  legible. 

In  this  manner  was  much  of  the  history  of 
the  early- day  discoverers  and  pioneers  of  the 
middle  west  preserved  to  us.  The  romantic 
part  of  it  all  is  that,  years  after  all  hope  had 
been  abandoned  of  ever  securing  reliable  data 
on  the  French  discoveries,  and  subsequent 
occupation  of  this  great  territory,  this  incident 


12 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

of  the  accidental  discovery  of  the  "Jesuit 
Relations"  came  like  a  voice  speaking  out  of 
the  past. 

The  Coming  of  the  French  to  the  Valley 
of  the  Kankakee 

Two  years  spent  under  the  sunny  skies  of 
southern  California,  hemmed  in  by  the  moun- 
tains and  the  waste  places  of  the  desert,  with 
the  great  Pacific  for  a  back-yard,  on  all  of 
which  rests  the  charm  of  romance  of  old  Span- 
ish days  with  their  care-free  indolence  and  free- 
handed hospitality,  awakened  within  us  some- 
thing akin  to  regret  that  a  land  so  favored  as 
our  own  Valley  of  the  Kankakee  should, 
apparently,  be  so  lacking  in  monuments  of 
historic  interest,  around  which  cluster  legends 
with  their  romance  and  tragedy  of  the  old  days 
when  the  Frenchman  came.  It  is  true  we  have 
much  authenticated  history  of  "The  Country 
of  the  Illinois,"  in  its  early  days,  and  it  is  also 
true  that  much  which,  in  this  day,  would  prove 
of  very  great  value  and  interest  is  hopelessly, 
irretrievably  lost.  Starved  Rock  is  one  notable 
point  towards  which  we  may  turn  and  say  with 
certainty  that  its  limited  area  was  trod  by 
La  Salle,  Tonty,  the  Jesuit  missionaries,  and 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 13 

many  other  notables  in  French  history.  Kas- 
kaskia  and  Cahokia,  where  the  King's  Court 
sat,  and  for  years,  up  until  1764,  administered 
the  affairs  of  the  domain  of  "New  France," 
enjoy  a  similar  distinction.  But  the  Valley  of 
the  Kankakee,  though  rich  in  historical  lore 
and  brave  tales^  of  that  unique  character,  the 
"Coureur  de  Bois,"  is,  sad  to  say,  almost  wholly 
lacking  in  historical  monuments  that  may  be 
visualized  or  venerated  by  reason  of  their  asso- 
ciation with  the  early  French  discoverers. 

In  December  of  the  year  1679,  LaSalle, 
Tonty,  Father  Hennepin  and  a  considerable 
party,  coming  by  way  of  the  St.  Joseph  por- 
tage and  the  Kankakee  river,  first  bore  the 
"Lilies  of  France"  into  the  great  prairie  para- 
dise where  we  live  today.  Many  years  prior  to 
this  epochal  event,  every  "coureur  de  bois,"  or 
rover  of  the  woods,  from  the  St.  Lawrence, 
who  drifted  into  the  heart  of  the  country  of 
the  Illinois,  found  a  land  so  spacious  and  invit- 
ing, so  beautiful,  so  teeming  with  fatness,  so 
ideal  with  respect  to  its  climate — being  neither 
too  cold  in  winter  nor  too  hot  in  summer — that 
he  chose  to  remain,  forgetting,  as  the  years 
passed  on,  that  there  was  such  a  place  as  Can- 
ada.  Close  on  the  heels  of  these  rovers  of  the 


14 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

woods  and  prairies  came  the  black-robed  Jes- 
uits, and  with  their  coming  the  light  of  history 
dawned  on  the  solitude,  for  they,  first  of  all, 
wrote  of  what  they  saw.  Franquelin,  Marest, 
Marquette,  Dablon,  Charlevoix,  Hennepin, 
and  many  others,  have  written  of  the  beautiful 
country  of  that  early  day.  The  broad,  fertile 
areas  that  unfolded  before  their  astonished 
vision,  disclosing  rivers,  woods,  plains  with 
their  herds  of  buffalo  and  deer,  held  also  the 
promise  of  a  vast  inland  empire  made  readily 
accessible  by  almost  continuous  waterways 
from  the  St.  Lawrence  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico. 
DeSoto,  the  Spaniard,  was  the  first  to  discover 
the  Mississippi,  but  LaSalle  was  the  first  to 
navigate  its  waters  from  the  Illinois  to  its 
mouth,  while  the  adventurous  Hennepin  pro- 
ceeded north  as  far  as  the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony. 
Father  Hennepin  has  preserved  for  us,  in 
interesting  narrative,  the  details  of  the  transfer 
from  the  St.  Joseph  river,  at  a  point  about 
where  South  Bend,  Indiana,  stands  today,  over 
a  three-mile  portage  to  the  great  Kankakee 
swamps,  wherein  the  Kankakee  river  takes  its 
rise.  For  many  miles,  he  says,  the  stream  was 
so  narrow  that  the  canoes  of  the  expedition, 
viewed  from  a  distance,  appeared  as  though 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 15 

moving  on  dry  land.  Late  one  afternoon  in 
December,  1679,  while  LaSalle  was  out  recon- 
noitering  in  territory  which  may  not  have  been 
far  from  the  present  state  line,  east  or  west, 
he  got  lost.  Night  came  on  and  he  was  alone 
in  the  great  woods.  As  he  proceeded,  he  beheld 
the  light  of  a  camp-fire  gleaming  through  the 
timber,  and  towards  it  he  made  his  way.  He 
had  surprised  some  Indian  in  lonely  bivouac 
for  the  night,  for  there,  under  a  tree,  was  his 
bed  of  leaves  with  the  impress  of  his  body  dis- 
cernible therein.  LaSalle  announced  in  a  loud 
voice,  repeating  in  the  various  Indian  dialects 
at  his  command,  that  he  was  a  friend  and 
meant  only  to  share  the  comforts  of  the  humble 
home  in  the  wilderness  with  its  owner.  But  no 
one  appeared,  and,  accordingly,  LaSalle  laid 
him  down  in  the  Indian's  bed  of  leaves  and 
slept  the  sleep  of  the  just  until  the  break  of 
day.  It  must  be  admitted  that  it  took  nerve  to 
sleep  thus  in  a  strange  bed  in  an  enemy  coun- 
try. A  searching  party  under  the  command 
of  Tonty  found  him  the  following  day.  An 
incident  of  their  travel  down  the  Kankakee 
was  the  finding  of  a  mammoth  buffalo  bull, 
helplessly  mired  in  the  mud  of  the  river  bank 
which  had,  somehow,  escaped  visitation  by  the 


16 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

wolves.  The  monster  was  dispatched  and,  from 
the  carcass,  the  party  supplied  themselves  with 
an  abundance  of  buffalo  steaks,  which,  how- 
ever, proved  to  be  so  tough  that  no  use  could 
be  made  of  them. 

LaSalle  was  a  man  of  vision  and,  as  they 
pushed  on  to  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi,  his 
active  brain  readily  comprehended  the  tre- 
mendous possibilities  of  this  great,  fertile  basin, 
then  untouched,  as  well  as  the  strategic  value 
of  its  far-reaching  plains  and  rivers,  located  as 
they  were  in  the  heart  of  the  continent.  It  is 
all  a  matter  of  history  how,  in  1682,  LaSalle 
and  his  party  unfurled  the  banner  of  France 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi  and,  as  a  part 
of  the  ceremony  observed  while  taking  this 
great  country  in  the  name  of  Louis  XIV,  a 
leaden  plate  was  buried  somewhere  in  the 
unstable  sands  of  the  river's  mouth  inscribed 
with  the  name,  "Louisiana,"  the  baptismal 
name  of  the  great  region  of  the  Mississippi 
basin.  LaSalle,  fired  by  an  ambition  to  found 
an  empire  in  this  wonderful  country,  made 
several  trips  to  France  and  urged  upon  the 
sovereign,  Louis  XIV,  the  adoption  of  a 
project  to  plant  a  colony  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Mississippi.   It  gives  one  a  thrill  to  recall  that 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 17 

this  land  of  ours  was,  for  a  time,  the  all- 
engrossing  topic  of  the  most  brilliant  court  in 
the  world.  The  narratives  of  this  strange  new 
world  were  hung  upon  by  court  beauties  and 
courtiers  with  all  the  artless  credulity  of  chil- 
dren listening  to  fairy  tales.  The  great  Louis 
was  impressed  with  the  utility  and  magnitude 
of  it  all,  and  the  minister,  Seignelay,  was  at 
last  instructed  to  draw  on  the  King's  treasure 
chest  for  sufficient  gold  to  finance  a  colony  of 
respectable  proportions  and,  accordingly,  it 
was  sent  out.  But  the  expedition  failed.  Sail- 
ing past  the  mouth  of  the  Mississippi,  the 
colony  was  finally  landed  on  the  east  coast  of 
Texas,  and  from  this  point  LaSalle  set  out  to 
re-discover  the  Mississippi.  On  one  of  these 
trips  his  men  mutinied,  LaSalle  was  assassi- 
nated, and  sleeps  today  in  a  grave  unknown. 
The  loyal  Tonty,  he  of  "the  Iron  Hand  and 
the  Courageous  Heart,"  died  disappointed  and 
broken  in  spirit,  and  his  ashes  rest  in  the  Valley 
of  the  Illinois  in  a  spot  unknown  of  men.  Fate 
frowned  on  their  efforts  and  mocked  the  decree 
of  a  king. 

There  is  something  of  interest  that  attaches 
to  the  fact  that  this  land  of  ours  has  been  a 
land  much  talked  of  ever  since  that  far-off  day 


18 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

when  the  first  white  man  set  foot  in  it.  Then, 
as  now,  it  was  an  Eldorado  of  richness,  invested 
with  a  scenic  charm  that  simply  defied  the 
power  of  man  to  adequately  describe.  The 
spell  of  the  great  out-of-doors  fell  upon  the 
rude,  unlettered  coureur  de  bois,  who,  with  his 
savage  consort,  made  his  home  at  will  beneath 
leafy  shade  of  virgin  forests,  and  by  moving 
stream,  with  none  to  deny  him  his  share  of 
the  abounding  plenitude  set  in  the  wilderness. 
There  were  rare  occasions  when  he  journeyed 
to  the  far  distant  trading  posts  on  the  great 
lakes,  with  pelts  and  furs  to  exchange  for 
certain  necessities,  and  on  these  trips  he  came 
in  contact  with  others  of  his  kind,  to  whom  he 
told  the  story  of  "Le  Bonne  Terre,"  of  the 
"Beautiful  Land  of  the  Illinois."  The  hardy 
French-Canadian  voyageur,  who  first  pro- 
pelled the  heavy  batteaux  on  the  Kankakee, 
the  Iroquois,  the  DesPlaines  and  the  Illinois 
rivers,  carried  afar  wonderful  stories  of  the 
country.  The  Jesuits,  during  their  hundred 
years'  occupation  of  the  land,  wrote  much  con- 
cerning it,  as  we  have  seen.  Father  Marquette, 
in  his  journal  of  1673,  has  given  us  a  charming 
picture  of  the  land,  written  with  something  of 
the  style  and  appreciation  of  the  subject  such 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 19 

as  characterize  the  work  of  the  modern  corre- 
spondent. Joutel,  a  French  boy  of  barely 
twenty  years,  one  of  the  few  survivors  of 
LaSalle's  ill-fated  colony,  who  succeeded  in 
reaching  Fort  St.  Louis,  or  Starved  Rock,  on 
the  Illinois,  in  a  work  published  in  London  in 
1714,  speaks  of  the  glories  of  the  Valley  of 
the  Illinois,  as  viewed  from  the  top  of  the  rock 
in  late  October. 

In  the  successive  steps  by  which  the  devel- 
opment of  the  land  has  been  accomplished, 
we  have,  first,  the  French,  who,  after  many 
years  of  occupation,  established  the  King's 
Court  at  Fort  de  Chartres  in  1672,  continuing 
until  1764. 

The  English  period  follows,  from  1764  to 
1778.  The  Virginia  period  followed  when,  on 
July  4th,  1778,  that  intrepid  backwoods  war- 
rior, George  Rogers  Clark,  entered  Kaskaskia 
and  took  the  territory  in  the  name  of  Virginia. 

In  October,  1778,  the  Virginia  Assembly 
erected  this  territory  into  the  "County  of  Illi- 
nois," and  on  March  1,  1784,  ceded  the  terri- 
tory to  the  United  States,  which  marks  the 
beginning  of  the  Federal  era. 

May  7,  1800,  "the  Northwest  Territory,"  as 
this  was  then  designated,  was  divided  and  the 


20 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

western  portion,  consisting  of  what  is  now 
Indiana,  Illinois  and  Wisconsin,  was  consti- 
tuted "the  Indiana  Territory."  In  1809,  this 
Indiana  Territory  was  divided  and  the  western 
part  became  Illinois. 

In  1814,  the  Astor  enterprise,  "the  American 
Fur  Company,"  began  operations  in  the  Coun- 
try of  the  Illinois,  trafficking  with  the  various 
Indian  tribes  that  occupied  the  land.  Naturally 
this  enterprise  attracted  large  numbers  of  those 
who  depended  upon  hunting  and  trapping  for 
a  living,  and  for  many  years,  it  is  said,  two- 
thirds  of  the  fine  furs  handled  by  the  Astor 
Company  came  from  the  Country  of  the  Illi- 
nois. In  addition  to  life  in  the  open,  care-free 
and  without  restraint,  there  was  the  charm  of 
the  virgin  wilderness,  beautifully  diversified 
with  prairie,  woods  and  streams,  that  appealed 
irresistibly  to  the  fancy  of  the  frontiersman. 
From  the  north-east,  the  east  and  the  south- 
east they  came  in  increasing  numbers,  these 
hardy,  rugged,  self-reliant  types  of  men,  who, 
bred  in  the  open,  resented,  in  a  degree,  the  lim- 
itations of  growing  civilization.  Once  in  the 
land  of  the  Illinois,  glowing  accounts  of  the 
country  and  its  opportunities  percolated  back 
east,  sometimes  by  means  of  a  letter,  but  more 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 21 

often  by  means  of  a  messenger,  and  in  the 
decades  following  is  to  be  noted  three  distinct 
lines  of  movement  of  immigration — from  the 
region  of  the  St.  Lawrence,  from  the  eastern 
states,  and  from  Virginia,  West  Virginia, 
Kentucky,  Tennessee  and  others  of  the  south- 
ern states,  into  that  part  of  the  Mississippi 
Basin  known  as  the  "Northwest  Territory," 
out  of  which,  at  later  intervals,  were  carved  the 
commonwealths  of  Ohio,  Indiana,  Illinois  and 
Wisconsin.  The  Astor  enterprise  attracted 
such  vigorous,  forceful  types  of  men  as  Gurdon 
S.  Hubbard  and  Noel  LeVasseur,  whose  names 
stand  out  in  the  annals  of  pioneer  history  of 
the  Valley  of  the  Kankakee  as  having  been 
most  potent  factors  in  effecting  the  change 
from  primitive  wilderness  to  the  civilization  of 
today.  During  the  twenties  and  the  thirties 
there  was  a  noticeable  immigration  from  such 
states  as  Pennsylvania,  Ohio  and  Michigan, 
where  the  innovations  of  civilization  were 
becoming  irksome  to  the  pioneer  settler. 

These  early  pioneers  were  the  foundation  of 
the  commonwealth.  Hardy,  self-reliant,  versed 
in  the  rude  arts  of  woodcraft  and  the  farm,  the 
women  of  that  day  equally  skilled  in  all  that 
pertained  to  their  domain,  not  forgetting  that 


LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 


they  spun  and  wove  and  supplied  the  family 
needs  in  the  way  of  clothing  by  their  own  skill 
and  industry,  they  battled  long,  and  endured 
much,  and  became  strong  thereby.  Living  in 
the  open,  boundless  spaces  of  the  new  land 
begat  a  sense  of  freedom  and  independence  as 
essential  to  their  being  as  air,  besides  inspiring 
a  friendliness,  deep  and  genuine,  that  per- 
meated thoroughly  the  social  fabric  of  that  day. 
And  as  for  hospitality,  they  gave  to  the  world 
the  only  slogan  it  ever  had  that  really  typifies 
the  spirit  of  hospitality,  in  the  quaint  phrase: 
"the  latch-string  hangs  out."  And  you,  who 
happen  to  read  this,  rejoice  and  be  glad  if,  so 
be  it,  your  forebears  were  of  the  stock  of  the  old 
pioneer  settler. 

So  rapid  has  been  the  transition  from  pioneer 
days,  with  their  limited  means  and  consequent 
hardships,  so  astounding  the  achievements  of 
science  by  which  we,  in  this  day,  are  enabled  to 
simplify  the  tasks  of  every-day  life,  that  tales 
of  wilderness  life  seem  unreal  and  exaggerated, 
on  the  order  of  extravaganzas  such  as  beguiled 
the  Arabian  Nights. 


JUDSON  D.  NICHOLS 

WHOSE  EIGHTY-ONE  YEARS  OF  ACTIVE  RESIDENCE  IN 
KANKAKEE  COUNTY  COVERS  THE  MARVELOUS  PERIOD  OF 
EVOLUTION  FROM  PRIMITIVE  PIONEER  DAYS,  AND  WHO,  AT 
THE  AGE  OF  NINETY-SIX,  RECALLS  ITS  STORY  AND  LEGEND, 
TOGETHER  WITH  INTERESTING  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  SOCIAL 
LIFE  OF  THAT  FAR-OFF  DAY 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 23 

Pioneer  Life  on  the  Kankakee  Eighty 
Years  Ago 

"Tell  me  a  tale  of  the  timber  lands — 
Of  the  old-time  pioneers; 
Somepin'  a  pore  man  understands 

With  his  feelin's,  as  well  as  ears. 
Tell  of  the  old  log  house — about 

The  loft  and  the  puncheon  flore — 
The  old  fi-er-place  with  its  crane  swung  out, 
And  the  latch-string  through  the  door." 

— James  Whitcomb  Riley. 

Mr.  Judson  Nichols  tells  us  that  the  life  of 
the  average  pioneer  in  Kankakee  County, 
around  ahout  the  year  1842,  was  pretty  much 
the  same  in  its  essential  details.  Financially, 
all  were  about  on  an  equality,  one  with  the 
other,  except  that  here  and  there  was  one  who 
brought  with  him  into  the  then  new  land  a 
meager  capital  of  cash,  with  which  he  bought 
his  land  outright.  Of  course,  it  was  an  advan- 
tage to  own  your  own  land  and  not  be  obliged 
to  pay  an  interest  rate  of  ten  to  twelve  per 
cent.  But,  looking  back  over  the  trail  of  the 
years,  it  is  to  be  readily  discerned  that  a  man's 
real  capital,  after  all,  was  his  brain  and  brawn 
and  industry.  Scarcity  of  money,  lack  of  roads 
and  the  great  distance  from  markets,  naturally 
compelled  the  pioneer  resident  of  the  wilder- 


LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 


ness  to  continually  draw  upon  his  ingenuity 
to  meet  the  need  of  the  hour,  and  that 
which  ingenuity  inspired,  industry  brought  into 
being,  as  many  a  rude  article  of  home  manu- 
facture that  remains  to  us  in  this  day  amply 
attests.  Our  forebears  were  a  hardy,  virile, 
courageous  people,  as  may  be  said  of  any  peo- 
ple schooled  in  the  hard  school  of  adversity, 
with  necessity  for  a  master. 

Upon  the  arrival  of  Roswell  Nichols  and 
family  at  their  farm  on  the  south  bank  of  the 
Kankakee,  opposite  Rock  Creek,  the  first  thing 
to  which  they  devoted  their  attention  was  the 
repairing  of  the  three  log  cabins,  which  were 
in  a  state  of  advanced  dilapidation,  requiring 
much  work  to  make  them  habitable.  Trees  were 
felled  and  sawed  into  lengths  of  about  three 
feet,  and  from  them  "shakes"  were  riven  for 
the  roofs  of  the  cabins.  These  "shakes"  were 
split  to  a  thickness  of  one-half  to  three-fourths 
of  an  inch  in  thickness,  the  width  of  the  timber, 
and  placed  side  by  side  on  the  roof  and  held  in 
position  by  heavy  timbers  which,  in  turn,  were 
held  by  wooden  pins,  driven  through  holes 
bored  through  these  timbers  into  the  logs  of 
the  cabin.  Nails  were  nails  in  that  day,  and 
hard  to  get,  even  though  one  had  the  money. 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 25 

But  anybody  could  bore  a  hole  with  an  auger, 
anybody  could  whittle  out  a  wooden  pin  and 
drive  it  into  place,  and,  in  the  end,  it  was  just 
as  good  and  all  it  cost  was  labor. 

These  "shakes"  on  the  roof  did  not  fit  up 
exactly,  and  thereby  the  Nichols  boys,  who 
occupied  the  "loft"  directly  under  them,  had 
the  advantage  of  an  unlimited  supply  of  fresh 
air  in  their  apartment,  and  a  wonderful  oppor- 
tunity to  observe  certain  of  the  heavenly  con- 
stellations as  a  preliminary  to  sleep.  Not  only 
that,  many  a  morning  the  boys  were  awakened 
by  a  heavy  thud  on  the  roof,  and  thereby  they 
knew  a  prairie  chicken  had  alighted,  and  oft- 
times  there  was  a  scramble  among  them  to  try 
to  catch  it  by  the  foot  through  the  opening. 

That  might  be  termed  one  of  their  "indoor 
sports."  The  rain  often  ran  through  on  them, 
and  winter's  snows  sifted  in  on  the  coverlid  in 
drifts,  while  all  about  them,  while  they  slept, 
was  the  crash  of  the  wintry  winds  in  the  forest. 
There  were  times  when  it  was  pretty  "dog- 
gone" cold,  when  the  cracks  in  the  puncheon 
floor  of  the  cabin  were  plentifully  decorated 
with  fantastic  frost  crystals,  and  draughts  of 
ice-cold  air  all  but  congealed  the  blood  while 
the  boys  got  into  their  clothing  of  a  morning 


26 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

and  scuttled  down  the  ladder  from  the  loft  to 
break  the  ice  on  the  water  pail,  preliminary  to 
their  morning  ablutions.  But,  oh,  what  joy, 
after  the  stock  had  been  cared  for  and  the 
morning  chores  done  up,  to  feel  the  genial  heat 
of  the  blazing  logs  in  the  fireplace  while  they 
waited  for  breakfast,  the  senses  suffused,  mean- 
while, by  the  delicious  aroma  of  steaming  cof- 
fee and  salt  pork,  to  which  were  added  still 
other  odors,  tantalizing  in  their  elusiveness,  as 
though  one  could  not  quite  make  sure  whether 
they  portended  "flapjacks"  or  "johnny-cake," 
or  some  other  delectable  compound  for  which 
"Ma"  was  famous.  After  eighty  years  these 
are  some  of  the  memories  that  still  beckon  from 
pioneer-land  down  the  long  vista  of  the  years 
to  the  present  and  thrill  one  with  a  touch  of 
vain  regret. 

The  produce  raised  on  the  limited  areas  of 
that  day  was  hauled  to  Chicago,  often  by  ox- 
team,  generally  by  the  way  of  Wilmington  and 
Joliet.  Thirty-five  bushels  of  wheat  made  a 
load,  and  35  cents  per  bushel  therefor  was  rated 
good.  Dressed  hogs  brought  $1.75  per  hundred 
in  the  Chicago  market,  and  Mr.  Nichols  recalled 
that  on  one  occasion  ten  fine  dressed  hogs  sold 
for  thirty  dollars  in  specie.    The  payment  in 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 27 

specie,  however,  made  the  deal  look  good,  for 
when  one  journeyed  to  Middleport,  Iroquois 
county,  to  pay  taxes,  specie,  and  not  "wild-cat" 
money,  was  one  of  the  indispensable  requisites. 
The  main  standby  of  the  settler  in  pioneer 
days  was  cattle,  which  thrived  on  the  sweet, 
succulent,  upland  prairie  grass  which  abounded 
on  every  side.  The  increase  in  the  herd  was 
rapid  and  the  ease  with  which  they  were  cared 
for  made  them  most  desirable.  Again,  cattle 
were  used  advantageously  in  the  work  of  the 
farm,  more  especially  when  it  came  to  heavy 
hauling.  They  were  slow,  it  is  true,  but  they 
required  no  grain  and,  whether  on  the  road  or 
in  the  field,  an  hour's  browsing  on  the  prairie 
grass,  a  mouthful  of  water,  and  they  were 
ready  to  go  on.  Dealing  in  cattle  back  in  the 
early  forties  was  quite  a  business.  A  man  from 
southern  Ohio  used  to  make  regular  yearly 
trips  to  the  Kankakee  for  that  purpose  as  far 
back  as  1844.  A  good  steer,  at  that  time, 
brought  $6.00,  and  a  good,  fat  ox  weighing 
around  fifteen  hundred  pounds  brought  ten  to 
twelve  dollars.  Cattle  purchased  in  this  man- 
ner were  rounded  up  at  points  on  or  near  the 
"Hubbard  Trail"  and  were  then  driven  in  one 
herd  through  to  southern  Ohio.   There,  during 


28 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

the  winter,  they  were  fed  on  corn.  Later,  they 
were  driven  east,  to  the  Baltimore  market, 
hundreds  of  miles  on  foot.  Feed  was  every- 
where abundant  along  the  road,  and  cattle  thus 
driven  invariably  did  well  and  reached  their 
destination  in  good  condition. 

The  fences  of  the  early  pioneer  farmers  were 
what  was  termed  "ditch  fences,"  consisting  of 
a  shallow  trench,  made  by  plowing  the  ground 
and  piling  up  the  prairie  sod  in  a  sort  of  em- 
bankment around  ten  or  fifteen  acre  patches 
that  had  been  sown  to  small  grain.  The  best 
feature  of  the  "ditch  fence"  was  that  it  aided 
somewhat  in  the  matter  of  surface  drainage 
and  was,  at  times,  of  small  aid  when  it  came 
to  fighting  fire.  Roswell  Nichols  devoted  his 
attention  to  getting  out  rails  for  fencing,  the 
"Barrens,"  close  by,  furnishing  an  unlimited 
supply  of  this  material.  These  rails  had  to  be 
hauled  a  distance  of  three  miles,  but  the  ground 
was  so  soft  and  springy  that  little  headway 
could  be  made  by  team  and  wagon.  He  devised 
a  way  out  of  the  difficulty  by  felling  a  big 
white  oak  tree,  whose  trunk  was  fully  two  feet 
through,  and  round,  and  from  this  he  cut  four 
sections  nine  inches  thick,  for  wheels.  Heavy 
axles  and  bolsters  were  prepared,   a  "split" 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 29 

tongue  was  attached,  and  with  five  to  seven 
yoke  of  cattle  hooked  thereto,  enormous  loads 
of  rails  were  transported  with  little  difficulty. 
There  were  times  when  the  wheels  of  this  prim- 
itive transport  sank  into  the  soft,  springy  turf 
until  the  axles  fairly  rested  on  the  ground.  But 
the  cattle  laid  to  it,  took  their  time,  and  some- 
how floundered  through.  It  is  recalled  that 
they  never  had  to  take  a  load  off  while  using 
the  cattle  for  motive  power.  Mr.  Nichols  says 
that  the  trail  of  that  early-day  juggernaut  was 
clearly  visible  in  the  turf  of  the  woods  as  long 
as  thirty  years  afterwards. 

Although  Roswell  Nichols  was  a  tanner  by 
trade,  the  cowhides  that  accumulated  at  the 
farm  he  took  to  Joliet,  to  the  tannery.  From 
the  leather  thus  obtained  he  made  boots  and 
shoes  for  the  family.  He  made  lasts  from  the 
wood  of  the  basswood,  and  really  became  quite 
skillful  in  fashioning  footgear.  His  products, 
more  practical  than  elegant,  nevertheless  served 
admirably  to  protect  the  feet  from  the  tough, 
cutting  prairie  grass.  The  boys  of  the  family 
busied  themselves  of  a  winter's  evening  getting 
out  supplies  of  hickory  shoe-pegs,  to  the  end 
that  the  shoe  industry  might  not  languish  or  the 
supply  fall  below  normal. 


SO LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

Along  in  the  fall,  shortly  after  the  arrival 
of  the  first  frosts,  began  the  season  of  the 
prairie  fires  that  inspired  the  pioneer  settler 
with  a  wholesome  dread.  Day  after  day  and 
night  after  night  the  heavens  were  lighted  by 
leaping  tongues  of  flame  from  fires  that  raged 
far  out  on  the  broad  expanse  of  Grand  Prairie, 
traveling  oft-times  with  the  speed  of  an  express 
train.  Viewed  at  night,  the  sight  was  most  spec- 
tacular, great  curling,  leaping  mountains  of 
flame  giving  to  the  universe  something  of  the 
appearance  of  a  seething  volcano  or  inferno. 
Persons  caught  in  the  pathway  of  the  advancing 
flames  saved  themselves  by  back-firing.  At- 
tempts to  break  through  the  wall  of  fire  were 
sometimes  attended  with  fatal  results.  Game 
generally  made  its  escape  before  the  approach- 
ing wall  of  fire,  their  wild  natures  sensing  dan- 
ger long  enough  in  advance  to  make  safety 
possible,  but  snakes  and  other  creeping  things 
fared  disastrously.  The  grain  fields  of  the 
settlers  often  fell  a  prey  to  the  flames,  for  a 
fire  under  full  headway  would  easily  jump  the 
interval  of  plowed  ground  provided  as  a  pro- 
tection. In  the  fall  of  1844  the  Nichols  corn 
field  was  thus  swept  and  the  cornstalks  looked 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 31 

like  rows  of  charred  sticks  on  which  hung  the 
ears  of  corn  with  their  husks  burned  off. 

With  the  first  frosts  also  developed  that 
dread  malady,  which  was  the  bane  of  pioneer 
life,  the  ague,  or,  in  the  vernacular  of  that 
day,  "the  ager."  They  were  few,  indeed,  who 
escaped  this  yearly  visitation,  with  its  accom- 
paniment of  "chills  and  fever."  Mrs.  Nichols, 
a  frail,  delicate  woman,  was  providentially 
spared  the  miseries  of  "ager."  She  was  of  a 
type,  of  which  there  were  very  few,  who  proved 
to  be  immune  to  this  wilderness  plague.  There 
was  the  "one-day,  two-day  and  three-day  ager," 
during  which  the  victim  had  brief  respites  from 
chills  and  the  fever  that  followed.  Mostly, 
however,  it  was  just  plain  "ager"  that  a  fellow 
had  almost  daily  and  with  no  letup  from  aching 
bones,  creepy  chills  and  "shakes,"  followed  by 
fever.  Whole  families  were  thus  afflicted  and 
the  misery  endured  by  reason  of  it  has  never 
been  adequately  set  forth  by  those  attempting 
to  describe  it.  The  various  remedies  employed 
in  that  day  were  of  a  nature  and  variety  calcu- 
lated to  make  one  smile.  The  list  embraced 
lobelia,  boneset,  smart-weed  tea  and  quinine,  to 
which,  later,  was  added  "Indian  Queen  Vege- 
table Sugar  Coated  Pills."  Everyone  swore  by 


32 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

(and  sometimes  at)  his  particular  remedy,  very 
much  as  they  do  in  this  day,  but,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  quinine  easily  took  the  lead  as  a  rem- 
edy. Nine  members  of  the  Nichols  family  were 
affected  with  this  malady  at  the  same  time, 
and  a  favorite  practice,  when  the  premonitory 
symptoms  of  chills  were  felt,  was  to  line  up  in 
some  bright,  sunshiny  nook,  where  the  sun 
shone  in  hot  against  the  cabin,  and  sit  and 
"quake"  and  "bake"  until  the  fever  came  on. 
Dr.  Todd,  of  Rockville,  used  to  come  over  and 
administer  to  the  afflicted  ones  doses  of  lobelia 
emetic  and  copious  rounds  of  quinine.  Science 
long  ago  established  the  fact  that  ague  was  the 
result  of  the  sting  of  a  species  of  mosquito,  bred 
from  the  "wiggler"  of  rainwater  barrels  and 
stagnant  pools. 

The  early  settler,  of  necessity,  sought  the 
timber,  the  streams  and  the  high  land  whereon 
to  rear  his  habitation.  Timber,  for  many  rea- 
sons, was  indispensable  to  the  settler.  It  was 
necessary  to  raise  crops  on  which  to  subsist  and 
the  high  land  in  that  day,  though  not  of  the 
best,  had  the  advantage  of  drainage  in  wet 
seasons.  That  is  why  the  old-time  farm  was 
often  not  so  good  a  farm  as  was  later  developed 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 33 

in  the  low  lands  when  sub-drainage  came  into 
effect. 

The  home  cabin  of  the  Nichols,  across  the 
river  from  Rock  Creek,  was  a  spacious  affair 
and  boasted  an  innovation  quite  overshadowing 
the  rest  of  the  community,  namely — a  guest 
chamber.  This  guest  chamber  was  furnished 
with  real  furniture,  brought  from  New  York. 
In  it  there  was  a  real  "cord  bed,"  whose  sheets 
and  pillow  cases  were  of  linen,  hand-spun  and 
woven  in  the  old-fashioned  hand-loom.  This 
guest  chamber  was  a  tribute  to  happy  memories 
of  civilization  the  family  had  enjoyed  back  in 
New  York,  and  was  maintained  as  scrupu- 
lously as  though  the  need  for  it  in  the  wilder- 
ness were  just  as  great.  So  excellent  was  the 
quality  of  hand-woven  linen  that  dressed  this 
particular  bed  that  it  is  in  existence  today.  An 
added  luxury  permitted  for  the  guest  chamber 
was  tallow  candles.  Lights  for  family  use  were 
such  as  were  made  by  gathering  a  piece  of  cloth 
about  a  big  copper  cent,  such  as  we  used  to 
have.  This  was  immersed  in  a  shallow  dish  of 
lard  oil,  the  copper  cent  acting  as  a  base  to 
hold  the  cloth  erect  as  it  was  lighted.  It  made  a 
fairly  good  light. 

The   first    school   taught   in   the   Hawkins 


34 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

neighborhood,  south  of  the  river,  in  what  was 
then  Iroquois  county,  was  by  Miss  Ludelia 
Arnold,  who  came  west  from  New  York  with 
her  people,  driving  all  the  way  in  a  covered 
wagon,  or  "prairie  schooner."  The  school  was 
held  where  is  now  located  the  Limestone  Cem- 
etery. She  started  in  here  in  1846  with  eight 
or  ten  pupils  in  attendance.  For  her  services 
as  teacher  she  received  the  munificent  sum  of 
$1.25  per  week  and  board,  and  "boarded 
'round,"  as  was  the  custom  of  that  day.  Several 
years  later,  in  the  town  of  Aroma,  a  school  was 
organized,  and  the  teacher's  salary  was  $1.50 
per  week  and  board.  Later  the  salary  was 
raised  to  $2.00  per  week  and  occasioned  no  end 
of  criticism  at  the  waste  of  public  funds  in 
exorbitant  salaries. 

There  were  no  corn  shellers  in  the  early  days 
on  the  Kankakee,  consequently  the  pioneer,  for 
his  immediate  needs,  shelled  the  corn  by  hand 
and  ran  it  through  the  coffee-mill,  thus  con- 
verting it  into  meal  for  family  use.  Ear  corn 
in  that  day  was  very  cheap,  but  for  the  shelled 
product  a  better  price  was  paid.  At  Dr.  Todd's 
place,  at  Rock  Creek,  a  high  knob  in  the  field 
was  leveled  off  and  the  hard  clay  subsoil  made 
a  good  floor  on  which  the  ear  corn  was  shelled 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 35 

out  by  being  trampled  under  the  feet  of  horses. 
A  barricade  was  built  about  the  cleared  spot 
and  the  horses  were  kept  constantly  in  motion 
tramping  the  corn.  Considerable  corn  could  be 
shelled  out  by  this  primitive  process  in  the 
course  of  a  day.  By  the  process  of  shoveling 
in  and  out  of  the  wagon  much  of  the  dirt  was 
eliminated.  The  corn  thus  shelled  was  sold 
generally  to  the  distilleries  at  Peoria. 

Mark  Beaubien's  Story  of  the  Man  Who 
Took  Fire  and  Burned  Up 

Roswell  Nichols,  of  Palmyra,  New  York, 
made  his  advent  into  the  country  of  the  Kan- 
kakee Valley  in  1841.  At  that  time  he  pur- 
chased three  abandoned  claims  on  the  south 
bank  of  the  river,  opposite  Rock  Creek,  whose 
total  frontage  on  the  stream  was  three-quarters 
of  a  mile.  Very  early  in  the  spring  of  1842,  he 
removed  with  his  family  of  nine  children  to 
the  new  home,  which  was,  at  that  time,  em- 
braced within  the  confines  of  Iroquois  county. 
The  family  effects  were  loaded  aboard  of  a 
boat  on  the  Erie  canal  and  taken  to  Buffalo, 
where  they  were  transferred  to  a  vessel  plying 
the  great  lakes,  and  transported  to  Chicago. 
There  were  nine  days  of  travel  in  all  from 


36 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

Palmyra,  N.  Y.,  to  Chicago,  of  which  two  days 
were  spent  on  the  Erie  canal,  and  seven  days 
on  the  lakes  to  Chicago.  On  arriving  at  Chi- 
cago, the  family  were  domiciled  at  the  famous 
tavern  run  by  Mark  Beaubien,  "The  Sauga- 
nash,"  where  they  remained  for  two  days,  Mr. 
Nichols,  in  the  meantime,  hiring  seven  teams  at 
the  rate  of  seven  dollars  per  team,  to  transport 
the  household  effects  and  the  family  from  Chi- 
cago to  the  new  home  on  the  Kankakee.  The 
trip  was  made  in  two  days  by  way  of  Joliet  and 
Wilmington. 

Life,  during  the  interim  at  the  Beaubien  tav- 
ern, was  filled  with  unusual  interest  for  the 
older  boys  of  the  Nichols  family,  more  espe- 
cially the  nights  spent  in  the  capacious  bar- 
room of  this  backwoods  hostelry.  At  the  bar, 
which  occupied  one  side  of  the  room,  the  man 
of  business,  the  traveler  and  the  homesteader 
jostled  elbows  with  the  hardy  French-Canadian 
voyageur,  the  trapper,  the  hunter,  the  "squaw- 
man,"  half-breeds,  and  an  occasional  Indian, 
all  of  whom  imbibed  quantities  of  the  "corn" 
whiskey  of  that  day  as  they  would  so  much 
water.  It  was  a  phase  of  life  entirely  new,  and 
interesting  beyond  all  expression,  especially  as 
one  listened  to  the  various  tales  of  hardships 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 37 

and  encounters  in  the  vast,  outlying  wilderness. 
Beaubien,  himself  a  Canadian,  inured  to  the 
hardships  of  the  country,  was  an  ideal  host,  big 
of  stature,  genial,  and  with  a  voice  heavy  and 
far-reaching,  a  fitting  complement  for  one  of 
his  proportions.  He  moved  amid  the  throng 
with  here  and  there  a  word,  a  quip  or  a  joke,  or 
laughed  in  his  big,  hearty  way,  as  the  circum- 
stance seemed  to  require.  The  Nichols  boys 
were  quite  taken  by  the  genial  Beaubien,  and 
long  afterwards,  as  the  years  intervened,  mem- 
ory often  reverted  to  the  likable  quality  of  his 
personality,  as  well  as  his  story-telling  propen- 
sity, which  invariably  enlisted  the  interest  of 
all.  One  story  especially  stuck  in  the  memory 
of  the  youthful  Judson  Nichols  and  made  a 
very  deep  impression  upon  him.  The  story  is 
related  as  follows: 

The  conversation  that  evening  had  to  do  with 
the  liquor  question ;  not  that  liquor  had  become 
a  question  in  that  day,  except  insofar  as  it  re- 
lated to  quality,  quantity  and  capacity.  Beau- 
bien told  of  Pierre  LaFromboise,  a  Canadian, 
or  coureur  de  bois,  whom  he  once  employed  as 
a  man  of  all  work  about  the  tavern.  LaFrom- 
boise (which  means  the  raspberry)  was  a  heavy 
drinker,  yet  one  upon  whom  the  effects   of 


38 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

liquor  rarely  ever  showed.  He  never  missed 
an  opportunity  when  some  stranger,  purchas- 
ing a  drink  for  himself,  called  on  the  house  to 
join  him.  Every  atom  of  his  being  was  so  sat- 
urated with  spirits  that  he  seemed  to  leave  the 
taint  of  it  in  the  air  whenever  he  passed.  One 
night,  when  it  was  late  and  the  last  bar-room 
guest  had  taken  his  departure,  Beaubien  said 
he  looked  about  for  Pierre  and  beheld  him  sit- 
ting on  a  wooden  stool  in  his  favorite  corner, 
his  arms  folded  and  his  hat  slouched  down  over 
his  eyes  as  though  he  might  be  sleeping.  It 
made  him  mad  "like  gee,"  he  said,  to  behold 
the  servant  sleeping  in  public  like  that  and, 
walking  up  to  the  huddled  figure,  he  seized  him 
by  the  coat  collar.  Great  was  his  consternation 
to  find  there  nothing  but  empty  clothes.  Pierre 
was  gone ;  burned  up  !  While  lighting  his  pipe, 
he  said,  Pierre's  spirit-laden  system  had  taken 
fire  and  he  had  been  consumed  while  the  bar- 
room guests  drank  each  other's  health  and  made 
merry.  And  thirteen-year-old  Jud  Nichols, 
who  heard  Beaubien  relate  the  tale  of  the  sad 
end  of  LaFromboise,  took  it  all  in,  wide-eyed 
and  serious,  and  was  filled  with  a  deepening 
resolve  that  he  would  always  be  very,  v-e-r-y 
careful  how  he  toyed  with  strong  drink. 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 39 

Something  like  forty  years  later,  when  Mr. 
Nichols  had  left  the  farm  and  was  engaged  in 
business  in  Kankakee,  one  cold  winter's  night, 
when  a  company  of  friends  had  drawn  about 
the  cheerful,  red-hot  stove  in  the  Graveline 
building,  where  Legris  Brothers'  Bank  is  today, 
the  front  door  opened  and  a  swarthy,  power- 
fully built  individual  entered  and  sauntered 
leisurely  back  to  where  they  sat  by  the  stove. 
Mr.  Nichols  arose  and  welcomed  the  stranger 
and  gave  him  his  seat  by  the  fire.  There  was 
something  in  the  stranger's  bearing  and  the 
quality  of  his  voice  that  suggested  familiarity 
to  Mr.  Nichols.     All  at  once  it  came  to  him. 

"Say,  I  think  I  know  who  you  are,"  said  our 
host.  "Thas'  so?"  replied  the  stranger.  "Yes," 
said  Mr.  Nichols,  "you  kept  tavern  in  Chicago 
in  1842."  "Bah  oui;  I  run  one  tavern  like  hell, 
me,"  said  he  with  a  chuckle.  Continuing,  Mr. 
Nichols  said,  "I  know  well  enough  who  you 
are  now;  you  are  Mark  Beaubien,  and  in  my 
youthful  days  I  heard  you  tell  a  story  in  the 
bar-room  of  that  old  tavern  that  made  my  eyes 
bug-out  and  gave  me  the  willies  generally.  It 
was  some  time  later  that  it  dawned  on  me  that 
the  tale  was  a  lie,  but  it  was  a  good  one." 


40 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

"What,  me  tell  a  lie?"  boomed  the  voice  of  the 
stranger.    "What  was  it  'bout?" 

"It  was  about  Pierre  LaFromboise,  who  took 
fire  and  burned  up,"  replied  Mr.  Nichols.  At 
the  mention  of  the  name  LaFromboise,  the  big 
stranger  (who  was  none  other  than  Mark 
Beaubien) ,  expanded  and  fairly  exploded  with 
laughter,  and  after  the  story  had  been  told  once 
more  for  the  edification  of  the  company  about 
the  stove,  they  all  joined  in,  and  in  the  years 
that  have  followed  the  old  room  on  the  corner 
where  the  bank  is  has  never  had  its  echoes 
aroused  to  such  a  pitch,  for  Beaubien  himself, 
when  it  came  to  noise,  could  make  a  teamster's 
row  seem  like  a  deaf  and  dumb  quilting  party, 
to  say  nothing  of  the  help  he  got  from  the 
others. 

The  First  Threshing  Machine  Brought  to 
Kankakee  County 

The  first  grain  threshing  machine  ever  oper- 
ated in  Kankakee  county  was  that  which  Bos- 
well  Nichols  brought  from  New  York  to  the 
new  home  in  the  wilderness  in  1842.  It  was  not 
of  the  type  of  thresher  with  which  we  are 
familiar  in  this  day,  as  may  be  readily  supposed. 
It  was  so  diminutive  and  modest  in  its  propor- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 41 

tions,  so  lacking  in  the  essential  parts  which  go 
to  make  the  thresher  of  today,  that  one  could 
hardly  call  it  a  thresher,  except  by  courtesy, 
although  the  pioneer  folk  of  that  day  got  along 
very  nicely  with  it  and  regarded  it  as  among  the 
most  valuable  of  their  possessions.  It  was  so 
small  that  four  men  could  lift  it  readily  and 
move  it  into  any  position  on  the  field.  Its  work- 
ing parts  consisted  mainly  of  a  cylinder  and 
concave,  set  with  teeth,  but  there  was  no  sepa- 
rator attachment,  as  at  present,  whereby  the 
grain  is  separated  from  the  chaff.  The  straw, 
as  it  passed  through  the  cylinder,  was  cleared 
away  immediately  as  it  fell  on  the  ground  by 
men  stationed  at  the  back  of  the  machine.  The 
grain,  as  fast  as  it  accumulated,  was  removed 
together  with  the  chaff,  and  was  cleaned  later 
by  running  it  through  a  f  anning-mill,  or  by  the 
more  primitive  process  of  "winnowing."  The 
machine  was  operated  by  horsepower,  the 
power  being  communicated  by  the  old-fash- 
ioned "tumbling-rod"  system. 

In  the  primitive  days  of  eighty  years  ago  on 
the  river,  this  machine  was  easily  the  tre- 
mendous achievement  of  the  age,  and  for  the 
youth  and  the  middle-aged  for  miles  around, 
whenever  the  word  went  out  that  the  Nichols 


42 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

thresher  was  in  operation,  it  meant  that  they 
were  going  to  have  a  mighty  interesting  time 
watching  it.  The  machine  was  operated  for 
several  seasons  on  the  Nichols  farm  and  at  last 
came  to  grief  in  a  prairie  fire  that  burned  its 
way  through  the  heart  of  a  slough,  jumped  the 
fifty  or  sixty  feet  of  plowed  ground  surround- 
ing the  wheat  field  and  set  fire  to  the  wheat  and 
consumed  it,  along  with  the  machine.  It  was 
hard  to  lose  the  machine,  at  least  so  thought  the 
populace,  who  had  come  to  regard  it  as  one  of 
their  chief  diversions.  For  the  Nichols  it  was 
harder  still  to  lose  the  wheat,  for  a  fellow  had 
to  live  first  of  all. 

Many  years  later  Henry  S.  Bloom,  who  as 
a  boy  lived  in  the  Rock  Creek  settlement  in  the 
early  forties,  told  Mr.  Nichols  one  day  how  he 
set  fire  to  a  piece  of  prairie  to  find,  if  possible, 
the  carcass  of  a  deer  he  had  shot.  So  deeply 
engrossed  did  he  become  in  his  search  that  he 
forgot  all  about  the  fire,  and  it  got  away  from 
him  and  burned  over  a  large  area.  "So  that  is 
how  we  came  to  lose  our  wheat  and  threshing 
machine,"  said  Mr.  Nichols.  Continuing,  he 
said:  "If  we  had  known  forty  years  ago  who 
set  that  fire,  and  could  have  laid  hands  on  him, 
we  would  have  been  tempted  to  string  him  up 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 43 

to  a  shag-bark  hickory."  Said  Mr.  Bloom, 
naively,  in  reply:  "I  don't  think  I  ever  men- 
tioned the  incident  before  until  today." 

The  law  of  that  day  was  that  whoever  set 
fires  on  the  prairies  within  five  miles  of  a  habita- 
tion could  be  held  for  all  damage  resulting 
therefrom. 

"Shaw-wa-na-see's  Village"  of  Little  Rock 

For  years  prior  to  the  coming  of  the  white 
man  to  the  country  of  the  Kankakee,  a  popu- 
lous village  of  the  Pottawattomies,  that  of 
Chief  Shaw-wa-na-see,  existed  at  Rock  Creek. 
By  the  treaty  of  1833,  however,  they  agreed 
to  relinquish  the  territory  along  the  Kankakee 
river,  and  by  the  time  of  the  arrival  of  the  first 
white  settlers,  which  occurred  in  '34  and  '35, 
the  village  had  been  practically  abandoned, 
except  for  remnants  of  the  band  that  lingered 
still  as  if  loath  to  break  the  ties  of  home.  There 
were  other  villages  along  the  Kankakee,  nota- 
bly those  of  Me-she-ke-te-no,  in  the  Cooper 
woods;  She-mor-gar,  at  Soldier  Creek,  in 
Kankakee;  Wais-us-kucks,  near  the  old  Day 
ford,  above  Waldron,  besides  the  villages  at 
Momence,  Indian  Town  and  Yellow-Head 
Point,  where  old  MKn-e-ma-ung  held  forth. 


M LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

They  were  all  bound  by  treaty,  however,  to 
vacate  the  land  and  remove  to  western  Iowa, 
but  several  years  elapsed  ere  this  was  ac- 
complished, and  for  years  afterwards  they 
returned  in  somewhat  diminishing  numbers  to 
hunt  and  fish  in  the  old  domain  of  their  fathers. 
These  returning  parties  are  vividly  recalled  by 
every  old  settler  on  the  river. 

In  the  year  1842,  when  the  Nichols  family 
settled  on  the  Kankakee,  Mr.  Judson  Nichols 
recalls  that  Rock  Creek,  which  was  directly  op- 
posite their  place,  was  a  wondrously  beautiful 
and  picturesque  spot.  The  mouth  of  the  creek 
and  the  limestone  ledge  on  the  west  were  cov- 
ered with  a  heavy  growth  of  red  cedar,  of  which 
there  are  few  remaining  in  this  day.  The 
beauty  of  the  wilderness,  at  that  time  un- 
touched by  the  hand  of  man,  with  its  groves 
and  intervals  of  prairie  studded  with  flowers 
of  gorgeous  coloring,  was  most  fair  to  look 
upon.  As  a  boy,  the  Rock  Creek  region  held 
for  him  a  peculiar  charm,  and  he  recalls  that 
shortly  after  they  had  settled  in  their  new  home 
he  crossed  the  river  and,  alone  with  his  trusty 
rifle,  he  spent  hours  traversing  the  ancient 
Indian  trails  that  ran  hither  and  thither  be- 
neath the  leafy  canopy  of  the  woods  and  out 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 45 

into  the  open.  Progressing  some  distance  up 
the  creek,  the  youthful  explorer  came  unex- 
pectedly upon  the  primitive  mausoleum  of  the 
old  Pottawattomie  head  chief,  "Shaw-wa-na- 
see,"  whose  death  is  reputed  to  have  taken  place 
about  the  year  1834.  This  structure  was  a 
miniature  log  cabin  about  three  feet  wide,  four 
feet  long  and  four  or  five  feet  high,  made  of 
split  logs  and  notched  at  the  corners.  The  roof 
was  made  of  "shakes,"  held  in  place  by  large, 
flat  stones  laid  thereon.  On  the  western  side 
of  this  queer  structure  was  a  small,  square  aper- 
ture cut  in  the  logs,  so  that  during  the  cere- 
monial feasts  held  for  the  dead  the  old  chief's 
portion  might  be  set  there.  "Shaw-wa-na- 
see's"  body  was  first  placed  in  this  receptacle 
in  a  sitting  posture,  in  which  position  it  re- 
mained for  years,  wrapped  in  his  blankets,  and 
showing  little  change.  When  viewed  by  Mr. 
Nichols  in  1842  the  body  had  fallen  over,  the 
blankets  had  rotted  to  tatters,  showing  the 
skeleton,  and  the  few  remaining  articles  that 
had  been  placed  there  with  him  were  in  an  ad- 
vanced state  of  dilapidation.  The  old  chief's 
rifle,  tomahawk,  pipes  and  tobacco  that  were 
buried  with  him,  were  stolen  some  time  later  by 
one    Joseph    Shabonier,    a    voyageur    and    a 


46 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

"squatter"  in  the  neighborhood.  Later  the 
skeleton  of  Chief  "Shaw-wa-na-see"  disap- 
peared entirely,  and  the  legend  is  that  Dr. 
Daniel  Barnard,  of  Rush  Medical  College,  Chi- 
cago, became  the  possessor  thereof,  through  the 
instrumentality  of  Shabonier.  At  all  events, 
the  old  chief's  remains  disappeared  mys- 
teriously and  rest  elsewhere  than  under  the 
stone  recently  erected  to  mark  the  place  of  the 
first  interment. 

At  that  time,  eighty  years  ago,  on  the  slope 
of  the  creek,  there  still  remained  the  skeleton 
framework  of  the  Indian  habitations,  and  from 
the  edge  of  the  timber  where  the  open  ground 
stretches  down  to  the  present  Rock  Creek  road, 
the  old  corn  rows  and  hills  were  still  discerni- 
ble where  the  inhabitants  of  "Shaw-wa-na- 
see's"  village  had  raised  their  crops  of  Indian 
corn.  On  the  Dickinson  farm,  on  the  slope  of 
the  hill  and  lying  partly  in  the  timber,  was  an 
extensive  burial  ground.  In  a  good  many  in- 
stances the  graves  were  marked  by  little  log 
pens,  not  more  than  one  foot  high,  fitted  with  a 
puncheon  roof  with  heavy  rocks  laid  thereon. 
These  may  have  indicated  the  resting  places  of 
subchiefs,  or  individuals  of  importance.  Most 
of  the  graves,  however,  were  simply  mounds  of 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 47 

earth,  in  the  heads  of  which  were  planted  stakes 
painted  with  vermilion.  These  stakes,  in  many 
instances,  were  notched,  these  notches  being  a 
record  of  the  scalps  taken  by  the  warrior  lying 
there.  There  were  cases  where  as  many  as  fif- 
teen notches  appeared  on  the  vermilion-painted 
stake  in  the  head  of  the  grave. 

Many  of  these  graves  were  dug  open  later 
on,  but  aside  from  a  skeleton  and  remnants  of 
a  rotted  blanket,  the  rusted  remains  of  a  gun, 
or  knife,  or  iron  kettle,  nothing  of  any  value 
was  ever  found,  except  now  and  then  a  brace- 
let, sometimes  of  silver,  but  more  often  of  cop- 
per. These  bracelets  showed  primitive  work- 
manship, and  rude  etchings  of  peculiar  design 
sometimes  appeared  on  them. 

Mr.  Nichols  here  related  an  amusing  incident 
of  his  later  years,  after  he  had  married  and 
raised  a  family.  His  son  Ott,  as  a  youth,  moved 
by  the  all-absorbing  passion  of  the  anthropol- 
ogist, repaired  at  frequent  intervals  to  the  Pot- 
tawattomie  graveyard  in  the  Dickinson  field, 
and,  as  a  result  of  his  persistent  industry,  his 
room  at  home  was  littered  with  all  sorts  of 
aboriginal  trumpery.  Prominent  among  the 
finds  he  made  in  the  Indian  graves,  which  he 
bore  home  in  triumph  to  his  room,  were  several 


48 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

well  preserved  Indian  skulls,  a  variety  of  cop- 
per bracelets,  stone  axes,  arrowheads  and  rem- 
nants of  iron  kettles. 

In  the  course  of  time,  as  his  interest  waned, 
the  grinning  Indian  skulls  were  quietly  rele- 
gated to  a  less  conspicuous  position  in  the  en- 
virons of  the  home.  As  a  result  of  the  first 
move  they  landed  in  the  woodshed  at  the  rear  of 
the  kitchen,  and  from  there  in  time  they  gravi- 
tated to  the  back  garden,  where  one  of  them, 
for  a  long  time,  was  conspicuously  displayed  in 
the  crotch  of  a  cherry  tree. 

One  fine  summer's  day,  in  haying  time,  a  Jew 
peddler,  with  a  pack  on  his  back,  stopped  at  the 
house  for  dinner.  After  dinner  he  asked  per- 
mission to  remain  all  night,  which  permission 
was  somewhat  reluctantly  granted.  Several 
hours  later  the  Jew  appeared  in  the  barnyard, 
where  Mr.  Nichols  and  the  boys  were  engaged 
in  stacking  hay  and,  all  a-tremble  with  sup- 
pressed excitement,  his  face  blanched  white 
with  terror,  he  made  known  to  Mr.  Nichols  that 
he  had  discovered  a  human  skull  while  saunter- 
ing in  the  back  garden.  Enjoying  his  discom- 
fiture, Mr.  Nichols  replied,  "There  are  several 
skulls  about  this  place.  Just  where  did  you  see 
the  one  you  speak  of?"    But  the  Jew  was  too 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 49 

terrified  for  words  and  could  only  point  with 
more  or  less  uncertainty  in  the  direction  of  the 
cherry  tree.  "Oh,  yes,"  replied  Mr.  Nichols 
indifferently,  "you  mean  the  one  over  there  in 
the  cherry  tree?  Yes,  yes,  I  remember  now; 
that  is  the  skull  of  the  last  Jew  peddler  who 
stayed  all  night  with  us." 

Terror  evidently  had  robbed  the  peddler  of 
all  senses  of  humor  until  he  was  not  only 
speechless,  but  aghast  at  the  statement  of  his 
host,  and,  turning  quickly  away,  he  made  for 
the  house,  from  which  he  emerged  a  moment 
later  with  his  pack  on  his  back.  He  did  not 
stop  to  say  good-by  or  even  wave  farewell;  he 
beat  it  down  the  road  from  that  modern  Gol- 
gotha just  as  though  his  poor,  tired  feet  and 
aching  legs  had  been  equipped  with  the  fabled 
winged  sandals  wherewith  Minerva  endowed 
Perseus  when  he  went  forth  to  secure  the  head 
of  Medusa. 

An  Old-Time  "Turkey  Shoot,"  on  the 
Kankakee 

Seventy-eight  years  ago,  in  the  year  of  our 
Lord  1844,  and  on  a  Christmas  day,  an  old- 
fashioned  "turkey  shoot"  was  held  where 
Kankakee  stands  today,  in  the  lee  of  the  heav- 


50 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

ily  wooded  ridge  where,  ten  years  later,  Court 
street  was  cut  through.  The  place  is  easy  to 
locate  approximately,  though  not  exactly.  It 
was  at  a  point  not  far  from  the  intersection  of 
Harrison  avenue  and  Hickory  street,  where,  in 
that  day,  existed  an  interval  of  slough  and  open 
prairie  extending  for  some  distance  to  the 
northeast,  and  which  was  entirely  hemmed  in 
by  the  forest  primeval,  at  that  time  untouched 
by  the  hand  of  man.  News  of  the  "shoot"  was 
brought  to  the  Nichols  settlement,  down  the 
river,  by  an  itinerant  preacher  who,  in  addition 
to  his  duties  as  minister,  was  also  purveyor  of 
the  news  of  the  wilderness  neighborhood.  Now, 
the  winter  of  1844  was  the  coldest  and  stormiest 
recorded  in  pioneer  annals  for  many  a  year. 
The  cold  was  intense,  and  snow  covered  the 
ground  to  a  depth  of  nearly  two  feet.  But  the 
Nichols  boys,  Argale,  Bailey  and  Jud,  their 
youthful  spirits  aflame  with  excitement  at  pros- 
pect of  the  "shoot,"  polished  up  their  rifles  and 
made  ready  to  attend. 

They  set  out  Christmas  morning  with  a  team 
and  bob-sled,  traveling  the  south  bank  of  the 
river  until  they  came  to  a  point  very  near  where 
the  Radeke  brewery  stands  today,  when  they 
crossed  the  river  on  the  ice  and  made  their  way 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 51 

up  the  bank  and  into  the  timber,  from  which 
issued  a  pillar  of  pale  blue  smoke  which  tow- 
ered skyward  in  the  frosty  air,  indicating  that 
the  place  of  the  "shoot"  was  not  far  off.  On 
emerging  into  the  opening  in  the  timber,  they 
found  a  roaring  fire  of  logs  whose  flames  leaped 
high,  radiating  a  most  grateful  heat,  besides 
sundry  jugs  whose  contents  were  depended 
upon  to  add  a  certain  mellowness  to  the  spirit 
and  additional  warmth  to  the  inner  man  as  the 
day  progressed.  It  was  a  typical  pioneer 
crowd,  such  as  the  woods  and  prairies  at  that 
time  held.  The  crowd  may  have  numbered  as 
many  as  twenty-five,  and  among  them  was  a 
sprinkling  of  half-breeds  and  an  Indian  or  two, 
and  nearly  all  of  that  motley  company  were 
accompanied  by  that  indispensable  article  of 
pioneer  life — the  rifle. 

The  rules  governing  the  shoot  prescribed  that 
the  marksman,  on  payment  of  sixpence  (some- 
times called  a  picayune),  whose  money  value 
represented  six  and  one-quarter  cents,  was  en- 
titled to  one  shot  at  a  turkey  bound  to  a  rail,  the 
marksman  to  shoot  "offhand"  at  a  distance  of 
thirty-five  rods.  "Offhand"  in  that  case  meant 
to  draw,  and  sight  and  pull,  without  dwelling 
too  long  on  the  object.    It  was  also  permitted 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS 

LIBRARY 


52 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

to  "rest"  the  rifle  and  draw  as  fine  a  bead  as 
possible  on  the  turkey,  only  the  person  thus 
availing  himself  of  the  privilege  was  penalized 
by  being  moved  back  to  forty  rods.  A  good, 
full-grown  turkey,  in  that  day,  was  rated  at 
about  fifty  cents  (Oh,  boy,  that  we  might  live 
to  see  that  day  again) ,  and  at  that  there  were 
those,  doubtless,  who  thought  the  tariff  too 
high.  There  was  one  man  in  attendance  at  the 
"party"  that  day  whose  prowess  with  the  rifle 
went  unchallenged.  That  man  was  Gus  Wiley, 
from  down  the  river.  He  was  a  typical 
frontiersman,  dark  and  swarthy,  and  carried  an 
old  flint-lock  rifle  almost  as  tall  as  himself.  He 
was  so  good  with  that  old  rifle  that,  had  he  been 
permitted  to  continue,  he  would  have  utterly 
ruined  the  enterprising  promoters  of  the 
"shoot."  Four  shots  had  netted  him  four  birds 
at  sixpence  apiece,  six  and  a  fourth  cents,  mak- 
ing a  grand  total  of  "two-bits,"  or  twenty-five 
cents.  He  was  finally  ruled  out  of  the  sport 
and,  with  his  four  turkeys  lying  in  the  snow  at 
his  feet,  he  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  im- 
mersed in  gloom,  a  "Gloomy  Gus"  for  fair, 
watching  the  rest. 

In  the  course  of  the  day  a  white  turkey  was 
bound  to  the  rail,  but  so  perfectly  did  it  blend 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 53 

with  the  wintry  surroundings  that,  at  thirty- 
five  rods,  man  after  man  shot  at  it  with  no  other 
result  than  to  get  a  few  feathers.  It  was  a 
"hoodoo"  sure  enough,  and,  as  six  and  a  quar- 
ter cents  did  not  grow  on  every  bush  in  those 
days,  the  sport  dragged.  Wiley  was  finally 
appealed  to  to  take  a  crack  at  it.  He  responded 
with  alacrity,  even  though  the  management 
doubled  the  price,  making  it  a  shilling  for  the 
chance,  but  allowing  him  to  shoot  "offhand' '  or 
"rest,"  as  he  chose.  He  proceeded  to  load  his 
rifle  with  extreme  care,  and  seventeen-year-old 
Jud  Nichols  hung  upon  his  every  move  with  all 
the  absorption  of  interested  youth,  so  that  sev- 
enty-eight years  later,  at  the  wonderful  age  of 
ninety-five,  he  is  enabled  to  recall  the  scene  per- 
fectly. 

First,  he  took  the  ramrod  and  wrapped  about 
the  end  a  small  patch  of  cloth  greased  with  lard 
and  thoroughly  cleaned  the  barrel  of  the  rifle. 
He  then  raised  the  old-fashioned  powder-horn, 
grasped  the  wooden  plug  firmly  in  his  teeth  and 
withdrew  it  with  a  twist,  filled  the  cavity  in  the 
little  deer-horn  tip,  which  was  attached  to  the 
powder-horn  by  a  buckskin  thong,  and  which 
served  to  measure  the  proper  amount  of  powder 
for  the  charge,  and  poured  it  carefully  into  the 


54 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

barrel  of  the  riile.  From  his  pocket  he  took 
another  small  square  of  cotton  cloth  greased 
with  lard,  and  from  a  buckskin  pouch  took  a 
home-made  bullet,  which  he  enveloped  in  the 
patch  of  cloth  and  rammed  down  on  the  charge 
of  powder.  With  a  pinch  of  powder  in  the  pan 
of  the  old  flint-lock  he  was  ready.  Now,  Wiley 
was  an  enthusiastic  chewer  of  tobacco.  There 
was  scarcely  a  moment  of  his  waking  hours  that 
his  cheek  did  not  bulge  under  stress  of  an  enor- 
mous chew  of  the  weed  and  from  the  corners 
of  his  mouth  there  dribbled  tobacco-stained 
streams  of  saliva  that  ran  well  down  onto  his 
neck.  As  a  preliminary  to  drawing  a  bead  on 
the  turkey  he  spat  copiously,  and  by  a  most 
curious  sidewise  movement  of  his  lower  jaw, 
aided  by  his  tongue,  shifted  his  enormous 
"chew"  from  the  right  to  the  left  side  as  he 
brought  the  gun  to  his  shoulder.  For  a  moment 
his  body  was  tense  and  rigid,  his  eye  gleamed 
along  the  barrel  of  the  rifle,  and  then  suddenly 
above  the  roar  of  the  winter  winds  in  the  sur- 
rounding forest  rang  out  the  short,  wicked 
"bark"  of  the  gun.  He  had  fired  "offhand," 
disdaining  the  privilege  accorded  him  to  "rest" 
the  weapon,  and  from  that  instant  the  white 
turkey  ceased  to  figure  in  subsequent  proceed- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 55 

ings,  for  it  was  dead,  dead  as  "Old  Marley,"  of 
whom  it  was  said  that  "he  was  dead  as  a  door- 
nail." Among  those  present  that  day  were  Case 
and  Vet  Wadley,  several  of  the  Beebes,  Wil- 
liam and  George  Legg,  and  several  of  the  Case 
boys  from  over  on  the  Iroquois  river,  and  of  the 
party  that  made  merry  that  day  in  the  woods 
only  one  survives,  who,  at  the  age  of  ninety-five, 
recalls  with  much  pleasure  and  with  great  gusto 
its  varied  and  interesting  events. 

Hunting  the  Wolf  on  Horseback 

One  of  the  chief  joys  of  the  pioneer  boys 
during  the  forties  was  hunting.  The  forests  and 
vast  prairie  vistas  abounded  with  game  of 
various  kinds,  and  in  addition  to  the  sport  the 
game  was  a  most  important  element  in  the  fam- 
ily living.  Every  family  of  the  pioneer  settle- 
ment had  its  ancient  flint-lock  or  percussion- 
cap  rifle,  and  it  was  a  rare  thing  to  find  a  boy 
who  was  not  an  expert  in  the  use  of  it.  The 
large,  gray  prairie  wolf  was  numerous  in  that 
early  day,  and  proved  a  most  wily  and  trouble- 
some foe  to  the  settler,  whose  sheep-pens  and 
chicken-yards  he  raided  at  will  and  with  most 
disastrous  results  for  the  occupants  thereof. 
The  cunning  of  the  animal  was  so  acute  that  it 


56 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

was  next  to  impossible  to  lay  in  wait  for  him  in 
the  hope  of  getting  a  shot,  but  with  a  good  fleet 
horse  and  a  dog  the  hunter  had  better  than  an 
even  chance,  besides  the  exhilaration  of  a  chase 
in  the  open  that  made  the  blood  leap  and 
tingle.  Often  while  the  Nichols  boys  were  at 
work  in  the  fields  they  would  unhook  one  of  the 
horses  from  the  plow  and  set  out  in  pursuit  of 
one  of  these  gray  marauders  and,  with  the  as- 
sistance of  the  dog,  often  succeeded  in  riding 
it  down  and  trampling  it  with  the  horse's  hoofs, 
in  which  event  the  dog  easily  dispatched  it.  The 
plodding  farm  horses,  after  a  race  or  two  in  pur- 
suit of  the  wolf,  got  to  enjoy  it  as  much  as  the 
boys,  and  often,  while  being  taken  from  the  har- 
ness, they  seemed  to  sense  that  there  was  a  race 
on,  and  their  eagerness  and  enthusiasm  to  be 
off  made  them  difficult  to  handle. 

There  was  one  horse  that  Roswell  Nichols 
owned  which  was  the  especial  pride  of  the  boys. 
His  name  was  "Stargazer,"  and  was  reputed  to 
have  come  from  pedigreed  sires.  Whether  that 
was  true  or  not  doesn't  matter.  One  thing  they 
were  sure  of — he  could  run,  and  many  a  gray 
bandit  of  the  prairies  had  come  to  grief  beneath 
his  hoofs.  One  spring  in  the  early  forties,  while 
the  snow  was  still  on  and  ice  lingered  in  the 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 57 

marshes,  Judson  Nichols  went  out  on  the  trail 
of  a  wolf  with  "Stargazer."  Boy  and  horse 
both  lost  their  heads  in  the  excitement  and  en- 
thusiasm of  the  chase  as  they  gradually  gained 
on  the  fleeting  quarry,  and  gave  no  thought  to 
the  dangers  of  the  treacherous  trail  they  fol- 
lowed. On  they  came  with  the  speed  of  the 
wind,  little  heeding  that  the  trail  headed  into  a 
slough  whose  waters  were  obscured  by  a  cover- 
ing of  ice  and  snow.  All  they  knew  was  that 
the  wolf  was  but  a  few  feet  ahead  of  them  and 
in  a  few  seconds  more  would  be  under  "Star- 
gazer's"  feet.  At  the  first  lunge  of  the  horse 
into  the  slough,  the  ice  broke  under  his  feet  and 
down  he  went,  while  the  rider  hurtled  over  his 
head  and  by  the  momentum  was  carried  on  his 
stomach  on  the  ice  almost  up  to  where  the  dog 
had  momentarily  halted  the  wolf.  Jud  made 
one  wild,  despairing  grab  at  the  bushy  tail  of 
the  wolf  and  missed  it  by  something  like  an 
inch,  and  the  dog,  retreating,  the  wolf  made  his 
getaway.  But  for  "Stargazer,"  he  had  come 
to  the  trail's  end.  His  neck  had  been  broken 
by  the  terrific  impact  of  the  fall  through  the  ice. 
Sorrowfully,  and  not  without  misgivings  as 
the  many  prophecies  and  warnings  of  the  fam- 
ily concerning  what  might  happen,  on  account 


58 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

of  the  recklessness  of  horse  and  boy,  came  to 
him  as  he  removed  the  bridle  and  trudged  for 
miles  across  the  prairie  in  the  direction  of  home. 
The  news  of  "Stargazer's"  tragic  death  was  a 
shock  to  the  family,  of  course,  but  only  "Ma" 
seemed  to  realize  how  providential  had  been 
the  escape  of  her  son.  Later,  when  the  brothers 
had  been  made  familiar  with  all  the  details  of 
the  chase,  which  included  the  sad  particulars 
concerning  "Stargazer,"  Argale,  the  elder 
brother,  said,  "I  always  knew  you'd  get  your 
d — m  fool  neck  broke  riding  that  way."  And 
Judson,  after  thoughtful  contemplation  of  the 
brother's  remark,  observed  timidly,  "Yes,  but 
it  wasn't  me  at  all;  it  was  'Stargazer.' ' 

A  Double  Wedding  at  Limestone  in  the 
Year  1842 

In  the  early  fall  of  the  year  1842,  something 
like  eighty  years  ago,  the  sparse  settlement 
down  the  river  opposite  Rock  Creek  was 
thrilled  from  center  to  circumference  by  the 
announcement  of  a  double  wedding  which  was 
to  be  solemnized  at  the  log  school  house,  which, 
in  that  day,  stood  near  the  Hawkins  ceme- 
tery. The  ceremony  was  held  on  a  Sunday, 
following  the  arrival  of  the  itinerant  preacher 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 59 

who  visited  the  community.  The  historical 
annals  of  that  time,  unfortunately,  do  not  con- 
tain the  name  of  the  minister  who  officiated, 
and  it  is  also  to  be  regretted  that  a  similar  neg- 
ligence was  observed  towards  one  of  the  high 
contracting  parties,  to- wit :  the  groom,  who,  on 
that  particular  occasion,  took  to  wife  a  Miss 
Rounceville.  But  oblivion  often  follows  as  a 
result  of  the  marital  relation.  The  other  couple 
were  Almon  Hawkins  and  Miss  Thompson, 
daughter  of  Elijah  Thompson,  a  settler.  No 
invitations  were  required  for  this  social  event 
of  the  frontier,  for,  in  the  struggle  to  live  and 
get  along,  families  were  interdependent,  one  on 
the  other,  and  the  community  spirit  prevailed 
to  the  complete  exclusion  of  many  of  the  recog- 
nized social  customs  of  a  later  day. 

The  young  people  of  the  Roswell  Nichols 
family  decided  to  attend  this  function.  Among 
the  treasured  possessions  of  the  Nichols  family 
were  a  double-seated  carriage  and  a  set  of  sil- 
ver-mounted harness,  taken  in  exchange  for  a 
certain  piece  of  property  on  leaving  New  York, 
and  with  this  startling  equipage  Argale,  Bailey 
and  Judson  and  the  two  sisters  proceeded  in 
state  to  the  wedding.  It  was,  indeed,  a  brave 
showing  they  made,  with  the  carriage  all  spark- 


60 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

ling  with  its  coat  of  varnish  and  the  sun's  rays 
flashing  from  the  silver-mountings  of  the  har- 
ness, to  which  was  added  a  certain  refinement 
of  apparel  on  the  part  of  the  occupants  thereof, 
for  the  boys  wore  white-starched  shirts  and  calf- 
skin boots,  and  the  sisters  wore  habits  of  satin, 
in  comparison  with  which  the  "linsey-woolsey" 
bridal  gowns  of  the  principals  at  the  wedding 
looked  weak,  spiritless  and  tame.  The  cere- 
mony was  in  progress  on  their  arrival  at  the 
school  house  and  a  goodly  company  of  the  set- 
tlers filled  nearly  every  available  seat  of  the  lit- 
tle room.  The  threshold  of  the  doorway  was  a 
log  of  considerable  size,  which  necessitated  a 
step  up  and  a  step  down  as  you  passed  in. 
Here  is  where  the  youthful  Judson  came  to 
grief,  for  with  mouth  open  and  eyes  agog  at 
sight  of  so  many  people,  he  forgot  about  the 
step  down  and  in  consequence  went  sprawling 
on  the  floor  and  piled  up  limply  on  the  feet  of 
one  of  the  brides,  bringing  the  ceremony  to  a 
sudden  termination  the  while  he  extricated  him- 
self from  his  embarrassing  position. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  ceremony  the  min- 
ister proceeded  to  preach  a  sermon.  His  ser- 
mon occupied  a  full  hour  or  more,  and  as  the 
seating  facilities  of  the  little  log  school  house 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 61 

were  limited,  the  boys  brought  in  rails  from 
the  outside  and  fastened  them  in  the  interstices 
of  the  logs  in  the  corners  of  the  room  and  sat 
down.  There  are  times  when  it  is  hard  to  listen 
to  a  short  sermon  interestedly,  and  this  particu- 
lar instance  of  which  we  speak  was  one  of  them. 
The  glory  of  a  perfect  September  day  lay  on 
the  world  outside,  and  the  brilliant  sunshine 
streaming  in  at  one  of  the  openings  wrought 
fantastic  patterns  of  gold  on  floor  and  seats 
and  wall.  And  mingled  with  the  droning  voice 
of  the  minister  as  he  preached  his  sermon  was 
the  hum  of  vagrant  bees  and  other  insects  that 
dodged  in  at  the  open  door,  sailed  lazily  about 
and  out  again,  all  of  which  reacted  on  the  senses 
like  a  mild  opiate,  evidenced  here  and  there 
among  the  audience  by  limp  forms,  nodding 
heads  and  closed  eyes.  Presently  a  young  man, 
seated  on  the  rail  in  the  corner,  arose  and 
peered  interestedly  through  the  log  opening 
that  served  as  a  window,  after  which  he  left  the 
room.  Another  and  still  another  did  the  same 
thing — peered  from  the  window  and  then 
passed  to  the  outside.  One  after  another  the 
brothers,  Argale,  Bailey  and  Judson,  arose  and 
looked  out  of  the  window  and  went  outside,  not 
without  some  small  perturbation  of  mind,  for 


62 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

there  was  quite  a  crowd  gathered  about  their 
carriage.  The  reason  for  this  general  exodus 
on  the  part  of  the  younger  element  of  the 
audience  was  the  interest  aroused  by  the  un- 
usual elegance  of  the  Nichols  equipage,  which, 
arriving  late  at  the  wedding  while  the  people 
were  inside,  had  thus  been  spotted  during  the 
progress  of  the  service. 

So  great  was  the  interest  and  curiosity  of 
these  backwoods  youth  that  they  crowded  about 
the  rig,  running  their  hands  over  the  A^arnished 
surface  of  the  carriage  body,  the  leather  of 
the  harness  and  the  silver-mountings,  marvel- 
ing in  open-eyed  wonder,  speechless  and 
quite  overwhelmed  at  sight  of  so  much  luxury. 
You  may,  perhaps,  recall  something  of  the  awe 
you  experienced  on  beholding  the  first  auto- 
mobile only  a  few  years  ago,  which  was  in  a  way, 
as  great  an  innovation  in  transportation  as  was 
the  two-seated  carriage  in  that  day  of  the  "Vir- 
ginia" wagon  and  the  ox-cart.  Mr.  Nichols 
avers  that  there  was  not  a  spot  on  either  car- 
riage and  harness  as  big  as  a  copper  cent  that 
the  curious,  eager  throng,  did  not  feel  of, 
although  little  was  said  that  would  give  a  clue 
as  to  just  what  their  thoughts  and  opinions 
were. 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 63 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  service  Elijah 
Thompson,  tall  and  raw-boned,  father  of  one 
of  the  brides,  by  dint  of  many  "gees"  and 
"haws,"  engineered  the  ox-team  and  the  "Vir- 
ginia" wagon  out  into  the  open,  let  down  the 
tall,  slanting  tailboard,  took  one  of  the  four 
splint-bottomed  chairs  provided  for  the  wed- 
ding party  and  placed  it  on  the  ground,  by 
means  of  which  the  gallant  grooms  assisted  the 
blushing  brides  into  the  wagon.  With  the  party 
"all  set,"  the  tailboard  was  pulled  into  place 
and  Thompson,  his  lanky  frame  made  gro- 
tesque by  faded  trousers  of  "butternut"  and 
wearing  a  coat  rescued  from  "innocuous  desue- 
tude" by  the  application  of  at  least  forty 
patches,  crawled  under  the  yoke  between  the 
cattle  and  made  his  way  back  to  a  position  on 
the  wagon-tongue  under  the  projecting  peak 
of  the  box,  and  under  his  guidance  the  strange 
equipage  moved  out  into  the  road  and  in  the 
direction  of  home.  There  were  other  "Vir- 
ginia" wagons,  other  ox-carts  and  men  and 
boys  on  horseback,  but  never  before  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  Kankakee  Valley  had  a  bridal  pro- 
cession been  so  signally  honored  as  when  the 
Nichols  boys  fell  in  with  the  double-seated  car- 


64 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

riage,  drawn  by  a  team  resplendent  with  silver- 
plated  harness. 

For  months  afterwards  the  principal  topic 
of  conversation  in  the  pioneer  homes  along  the 
river  was  the  famous  two- seated  carriage  and 
the  gorgeous  harness.  One  rugged  character 
of  that  time  expressed  his  disapproval  of  it  all 
in  vigorous  terms,  and  gave  it  as  his  conviction 
that  folks  of  that  stripe  were  altogether  too 
"finicky"  and  would  not  long  remain  as  dwell- 
ers in  the  wilderness.  But  the  Nichols  are  here 
yet,  and  it  is  now  "nigh  onto"  eighty  years  since 
the  prophecy  was  made. 

The  Forge  on  the  Prairie 

Those  were  brave  old  days,  hard  old  days, 
dear  old  days,  too,  for  that  matter,  back  in  the 
early  forties.  Then  "Uncle  Billy"  Rantz  con- 
ducted his  forge  out  on  the  prairie  on  the  edge 
of  the  timber,  away  beyond  Davis  creek.  There 
he  sharpened  plowshares  and  fashioned  wooden 
mould-boards  (as  only  he  knew  how) ,  and  built 
breaking  plows  for  that  sturdy  race  of  pioneers 
by  whose  persistent  efforts  the  prairie  wilder- 
ness was  at  last  subdued.  Time  has  immortal- 
ized the  tale  of  "The  Forge  in  the  Forest," 
and  the  Armorer's  lusty  song  has  added  the 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 65 

glamour  of  romance  to  it,  and  why  should  not 
we,  at  this  late  day,  preserve,  at  least,  the 
memory  of  "The  Forge  on  the  Prairie,"  dedi- 
cated as  it  was  to  the  arts  of  peace,  leaving  to 
generations  yet  to  come  the  song,  if  song 
there  be? 

"Uncle  Billy"  was  a  genial,  accommodating 
soul,  whose  all-around  skill  at  the  anvil  helped 
the  settler  of  that  day  over  many  a  serious  dif- 
ficulty. His  services  were  often  sought  when 
a  shoe  needed  to  be  set,  or  a  link  welded,  or  the 
share  of  the  breaking  plow  sharpened.  When- 
ever an  emergency  arose,  especially  if  it  were 
something  concerning  the  cumbersome  wooden 
breaking  plow  and  its  primitive  mould-board 
of  wood,  "Uncle  Billy"  was  invariably  sought 
by  the  settlers  from  far  and  near.  Mr.  Judson 
Nichols,  at  the  age  of  ninety- five,  has  related  to 
us  how,  as  a  boy  of  seventeen,  he  has  stood 
beside  this  prairie  forge  and  watched  the  opera- 
tions of  this  old-time  disciple  of  Vulcan  with 
an  interest  amounting  almost  to  veneration. 
When  it  came  to  building  a  breaking  plow, 
"Uncle  Billy"  Rantz  had  few  equals.  He 
would  go  out  into  the  sugar  bush  that  skirted 
the  river  and,  with  practiced  eye,  select  such 
trees  as  had  a  twist  in  the  grain.    He  would  cut 


66 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

the  tree,  invariably  a  hard  maple,  and  then  saw 
out  the  section  best  adapted  to  his  purpose. 
From  this  section  he  would  sometimes  be  able 
to  split  out  two,  and  sometimes  three  pieces, 
with  the  proper  curvature  for  a  mould-board 
and  of  a  sufficient  thickness  to  be  worked  down 
to  proper  form.  These  wooden  mould-boards 
on  a  plow,  equipped  with  a  coulter  for  cutting 
the  tough  prairie  sod,  worked  admirably  except 
in  loose  soil,  when  frequent  cleaning  of  the 
mould-board  became  necessary.  Mr.  Nichols 
says  that  frequently,  as  he  watched  "Uncle 
Billy"  at  his  work,  the  thought  came  to  him, 
"What  in  the  world  would  we  do  for  our  break- 
ing plows  if  'Uncle  Billy'  were  to  die?"  And 
with  such  a  vast  country  to  subdue  and  such  a 
dearth  of  artisans  of  the  class  of  "Uncle  Billy," 
the  question  did,  indeed,  seem  most  vital. 

Some  time  in  1847  or  1848  the  David  Brad- 
ley "Diamond  Breaker,"  with  mould-board  of 
steel,  came  into  the  market,  and  on  its  advent 
many  of  the  troubles  of  the  prairie  settler  van- 
ished. This  plow  was  called  the  "Diamond," 
because  of  the  shape  of  the  mould-board  and 
also  because  of  the  fact  that  the  steel  of  which 
it  was  constructed  scoured  in  any  soil  and  shone 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 67 

with  all  the  brightness  of  a  gem.  "Uncle 
Billy,"  after  a  life  of  unremitting  service  to  his 
fellowmen,  has  gone  to  his  reward,  lo,  these 
many  years ;  so  long  ago  is  it  that  not  only  the 
forge  on  the  prairie  has  been  forgotten,  but  the 
log  cabin  has  disappeared,  and  only  a  few  in 
this  day  know  of  the  site  thereof.  The  prairie 
has  vanished  along  with  the  wooden  plow,  and 
the  wilderness  that  was  is  now  a  vast  garden  of 
productiveness  and  a  thing  of  beauty — so 
beautiful,  indeed,  that  in  all  the  country  wide 
there  is  nothing  that  surpasses  the  panorama  of 
golden  harvests  which  the  autumn  brings  to  the 
Valley  of  the  Kankakee.  "Uncle  Billy"  today, 
were  he  to  stand  in  the  doorway  of  his  humble 
log  shop,  looking  eastward,  would  behold,  not 
more  than  three  miles  distant,  in  a  straight  line, 
smoke  rising  lazily  from  a  huge  brick  stack  and, 
silhouetted  against  the  sky,  the  hulks  of  great 
buildings,  the  home  of  the  David  Bradley  plow, 
that  has  been  such  a  tremendous  factor  in  the 
development  of  the  land.  "Uncle  Billy"  Rantz 
may  have  dreamed  of  something  like  this  as  he 
worked  the  tough  sugar-maple  mould-board 
from  day  to  day,  but,  if  so,  it  was  merely  a 
dream  by  which  the  day's  work  was  beguiled. 
But,  just  the  same,  "Uncle  Billy,"  sturdy  old 


68 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

scion  of  a  race  that  met  and  overcame  diffi- 
culties, 

"Give  me  a  cup;  I  would  drink  to  you." 

Early-Day  Dances  at  the  Davis  Home 

No  one  seems  to  know  exactly  when  Samuel 
Davis,  a  big,  raw-boned  West  Virginian,  first 
settled  in  Bourbonnais  township,  or,  to  express 
it  more  definitely,  in  territory  which,  many 
years  later,  when  Kankakee  county  was  organ- 
ized, became  Bourbonnais  township.  The  first 
settlers  in  this  territory,  Noel  LeVasseur  and 
Dominick  Bray,  were  here  in  1832  and  '33,  and 
Davis  was  here  in  1838,  for  in  that  year,  during 
the  month  of  September,  his  two-year-old  son, 
George  W.,  died  and  was  laid  away  in  the  old 
VanMeter  cemetery  on  the  Goodwin  farm. 
Sickness  may  have  had  something  to  do  with 
arresting  the  flight  of  the  family  to  regions 
farther  west,  for,  scarcely  six  weeks  later,  Mrs. 
Davis  died  and  her  body  was  laid  beside  that 
of  the  infant.  One  thing  is  certain — for  years 
afterwards  he  made  his  home  in  the  nook 
formed  by  the  intersection  of  the  "Indian 
Trail"  and  a  creek  which  flowed  south  into  the 
Kankakee  river.  This  creek  today  is  known  as 
Davis  creek,  and  the  "Indian  Trail,"  which  in- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 69 

tersected  it,  as  the  well-known  "Bourbonnais 
Road."  This  nook  where  Davis  chose  to  build 
his  home  lies  to  the  northeast  in  the  angle 
formed  by  creek  and  road  across  the  way  from 
the  Cooper  home  of  today. 

The  house  built  by  Davis  has  long  since 
passed  out  of  existence  and  nothing  remains 
but  the  remnants  of  its  stone  foundation.  But 
if  these  stones  could  talk,  what  tales  might  they 
not  tell  of  youthful  goings-on,  of  pioneer  sports 
and  pleasures  that  smacked  of  "Old  Virginia," 
not  forgetting  the  dances,  which  were  almost 
of  weekly  occurrence  and  which  attracted  from 
far  and  wide  the  youth  of  the  wilderness  com- 
munity on  pleasure  bent. 

Tradition  had  it  (tradition  conveyed  by  that 
mysterious  early- day  system,  the  "grapevine 
telegraph")  that  Davis  back  in  West  Virginia 
had  at  one  time  killed  a  man,  not  through 
wanton  disregard  of  human  life,  but  as  the  out- 
growth of  a  quarrel  with  his  neighbor  over  a 
boundary  line.  Regarding  matters  that  cannot 
be  arbitrated  and  thus  settled  amicably,  the 
equation  was  simple,  at  least  as  viewed  by  the 
mountaineer;  it  was  either  Davis  or  the  other 
fellow,  and  in  this  case  the  other  fellow  "lost 
out." 


70 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

Davis  was  a  typical  pioneer  who  loved  noth- 
ing better  than  to  live  on  the  outskirts  where 
civilization  and  the  wilderness  met.  In  this 
nook,  formed  by  creek  and  trail,  he  built  a  com- 
modious house  for  that  day,  a  story-and-a-half 
structure  24x36,  which,  in  time,  became  the 
rendezvous  for  many  of  the  young  people  of 
the  countryside  who,  after  the  manner  of  young 
people  whose  diversions  were  few,  found  great 
pleasure  in  the  dance.  The  Nichols  boys, 
Argale,  Bailey  and  Judson,  together  with  other 
boys  from  down  the  river,  made  frequent  trips 
to  the  Davis  home.  Sometimes  they  would 
gather  up  a  bevy  of  the  neighborhood  girls  and 
enjoy  a  regular  old-fashioned  "hay-rack" 
party,  and  what  with  the  trip  over  and  back,  to 
say  nothing  of  hours  spent  in  "tripping  the 
light  fantastic,"  it  was  rated  as  "some  swell 
time,"  with  the  emphasis  impartially  dis- 
tributed on  all  three  words.  In  the  course  of 
time  Davis  took  the  Nichols  boys  to  task  and 
asked  them  pointedly  why  it  was  they  never 
brought  their  sisters  along.  They  jollied  him 
for  a  considerable  time  with  excuses,  trumped- 
up  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  until  at  last,  so 
insistent  was  he  on  this  point,  that  they  were 
put  to  it  to  fabricate  a  story  that  would  "hold 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 71 

water,"  as  the  saying  goes.  The  truth  was  that 
Mrs.  Nichols  positively  would  not  allow  her 
daughters  to  go.  To  cap  the  climax,  Davis  one 
night  put  up  an  ultimatum  to  the  boys,  the  gist 
of  which  was:  "Bring  your  sisters,  or  somebody 
else's  sisters,  or  you  don't  dance  in  this  house!" 
This  was  a  poser,  sure  enough.  But  pleasure 
weighs  heavily  in  the  scale,  and  youth  is  buoyed 
up  with  optimism,  by  means  of  which  pros- 
pective trouble  is  minimized  and  becomes  only 
a  remote  possibility.  The  only  disquieting 
thing  was  the  darkly  hinted  tale  spread  abroad 
by  "grapevine  telegraph"  that  Davis  had  killed 
a  man ;  but  even  the  deterrent  effect  of  whisper- 
ings so  sinister  could  not  last  forever,  and  some 
weeks  later  a  number  of  the  boys  set  out  for  the 
Davis  home  to  attend  a  dance  and  without 
partners.  Judson  Nichols  tells  us  that  on  this 
particular  occasion  he  rode  a  dapple-gray  mare 
with  fine  flowing  mane  and  tail,  and  that  on 
nearing  the  Davis  home  he,  as  well  as  his 
two  brothers,  by  some  providential  direction, 
secreted  their  horses  in  the  woods  instead  of 
tying  them  to  the  "worm"  fence  in  front  of  the 
house,  as  had  been  their  custom  in  times  past. 
As  they  entered  the  house,  conveniently  located 
near  the  stairs  which  led  to  the  upper  story  was 


72 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

a  barrel  of  whisky  turned  on  its  side,  with  a 
tincup  of  ample  dimensions  slung  by  its  handle 
to  the  spigot,  and  between  cotillions  the  fiddler, 
none  other  than  the  famed  Eloi  Marcotte,  made 
brief  excursions  downstairs,  presumably  as  far 
as  the  barrel,  where  he  interviewed  the  spigot 
and  the  tincup  and  embraced,  in  the  brief  inter- 
val measured  by  his  absence,  spirits  more  or  less 
congenial. 

The  entire  upstairs  was  devoted  to  a  dancing 
floor  and  was  lighted  with  tallow  candles  that 
glimmered  feebly  over  a  varied  company  of 
young  people  from  the  country  and  the  town. 
Watching  his  chance  at  the  end  of  a  cotillion, 
Mr.  Nichols  says,  he  got  a  little  French  girl  for 
a  partner.  The  set  filled  rapidly,  the  music 
started  with  the  dulcet  strains  of  "Turkey-in- 
the- Straw,"  the  dance  got  under  way,  and  he 
was  congratulating  himself  that  Davis  had  for- 
gotten all  about  the  harsh  terms  he  had  im- 
posed, when  lo,  here  he  loomed,  stern  and  for- 
bidding and  with  a  baleful  glitter  in  his  eye. 
With  a  wave  of  his  hand  he  stopped  the  fiddler 
and  warned  Mr.  Nichols  to  get  off  the  floor. 
The  brothers,  Argale  and  Bailey,  were  simi- 
larly warned.  During  the  interval  while  this 
was  going  on  three  young  men,  Alex  Berchem, 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 73 

Harris  Durham  and  he,  who  years  later  was 
known  as  "Colonel"  Wooster,  of  Momence, 
plied  the  boys  with  questions  as  to  the  trouble. 
All  three  advised  the  boys  not  to  weaken,  but 
remain  at  the  dance,  for,  said  they,  "If  you  boys 
cannot  dance,  neither  can  we."  Thus  encour- 
aged, the  boys  got  into  the  fun  again,  and  again 
did  Davis,  after  rinding  that  his  orders  had  been 
disregarded,  order  the  boys  from  the  floor  and 
from  the  house.  At  this  the  friendly  trio, 
Berchem,  Durham  and  Wooster,  made  it 
known  to  Davis  in  no  uncertain  manner  that,  if 
the  boys  went,  they,  too,  and  their  friends  would 
go.  This  was  more  than  Davis  had  bargained 
for  and,  considerably  upset  at  this  failure  to 
enforce  the  law  he  had  laid  down,  he  left  the 
floor  and  spent  the  balance  of  the  evening 
downstairs  in  close  company  with  the  barrel, 
the  spigot  and  the  tincup. 

Dances  in  that  day,  at  least,  and  more  espe- 
cially those  held  at  the  Davis  home,  were  not 
hedged  about  by  conventionalities  or  the  ob- 
servance of  the  niceties  of  etiquette  such  as  one 
found  in  the  ball-rooms  of  a  later  day.  Every- 
thing was  of  the  rough-and-ready  style.  The 
all-absorbing  thought  of  seventy-five  years  ago 
was  to  have  a  good  time.     The  youth  of  that 


74 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

day,  all  unmindful  of  the  fact  that  their  cloth- 
ing was  of  the  most  primitive  cut  and  of  coarse, 
"homespun"  texture,  their  footgear  fashioned 
of  heavy,  inelegant,  though  serviceable  cow- 
hide, readily  condoned  any  action  that  con- 
tributed to  comfort  or  greater  freedom  of  ac- 
tion on  the  part  of  the  individual  as  he  gleefully 
"cut  the  pigeon- wing"  or  threw  in  an  extra 
"double-shuffle"  for  good  measure.  Hence, 
says  Mr.  Nichols,  it  was  no  unusual  thing  for 
the  boys  to  remove  the  "wamus,"  worn  as  a  cov- 
ering for  the  "hickory"  shirt.  And,  as  a  means 
of  expediting  their  movements  through  the 
"mazes  of  the  dance,"  at  the  same  time  insuring 
the  least  possible  encroachment  on  the  domain 
of  the  young  ladies'  pedal  extremities,  the 
young  men  frequently  hauled  off  their  cumber- 
some cowhide  boots  and  danced  in  their  stock- 
ing feet.  And  the  quaint,  straight-lined,  calico- 
clad  fairies  of  seventy-five  years  ago,  so  far 
from  being  shocked  at  this  strange  proceeding 
on  the  part  of  their  youthful  cavaliers,  actually 
beamed  upon  them  with  approval. 

A  unique  and  outstanding  figure  at  these 
backwoods  functions  was  he  who  did  the  "call- 
ing." Some  of  the  "calls"  for  the  square  dances 
were  the  products  of  the  frontier  wits  of  that 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 75 

day,  and  every  community  had  at  least  one  who 
aspired  to  a  position  of  such  marked  promi- 
nence. This  manner  of  calling  was  not  original 
with  the  early  settlers  of  the  Illinois  prairies, 
but  rather  the  survival  of  customs  and  practices 
brought  to  us  by  the  pioneer  settler  who  had 
come  from  across  the  line  in  Indiana  or  Ken- 
tucky. There  is  a  charm  in  their  very  crudity 
which  makes  them  worthy  of  preservation.  On 
this  particular  evening,  with  the  couples  "all 
set,"  after  Eloi  Marcotte,  all  mellow  from 
numerous  bibulous  trips  down  below,  got  the 
signal  to  proceed,  the  listener  would  have  been 
regaled  with  something  like  this: 

"Balance  one  and  balance  eight, 

Swing  'em  on  the  corner  like  you  swing  'em  on  the  gate 

Bow  to  your  lady  and  then  promenade, 

First  couple  out,  to  the  couple  on  the  right, 

Lady  round  the  lady  and  the  gent  solo, 

And  the  lady  round  the  gent  and  the  gent  don't  go. 

Ladies  do-ce-do  and  the  gents,  you  know, 

Chicken  in  a  bread-pan,  pickin'  up  dough. 

Turn  'em  roun'  and  roun',  as  pretty  as  you  can, 

And  why  in  the  world  don't  you  left  alaman. 

Right  hand  to  partner  and  grand  right  and  left, 

And  a  big,  big  swing,  an'  a  little  hug  too, 

Swing  your  honey  and  she'll  swing  you, 

Promenade  eight,  when  you  get  all  straight. 

First  couple  out  to  the  right — 
Cage  the  bird,  three  hands  round — 


76 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

Birdie  hop  out  and  crow  hop  in, 

Three  hands  round  and  go  it  agin ; 

Alaman  left,  back  to  partner,  and  grand  right  and  left, 

Come  to  your  partner  once  and  a  half, 

Yeller  canary  right,  and  jay-bird  left, 

Next  to  your  partner  and  all  chaw  hay, 

You  know  where  an'  I  don't  care, 

Seat  your  partner  in  the  old  arm-chair." 

It  was  getting  late,  the  fun  was  fast  and 
furious,  and  the  boys,  in  the  excitement  and 
pleasure  of  it  all,  had  about  forgotten  Davis 
and  the  disagreeable  interruptions  of  the  early 
evening,  when  all  of  a  sudden  a  human  figure 
bounded  up  from  below  to  the  head  of  the  stairs 
and  let  out  a  yell  that  would  have  made  a  Pot- 
tawattomie  brave  look  foolish.  Mr.  Nichols 
says  his  first  thought  was  of  Davis  and  a  gun 
and  a  possible  shot.  But  it  wasn't  Davis ;  Davis 
was  in  the  grip  of  congenial  spirits  down  below. 
The  noise  was  made  by  a  young  man,  a  neigh- 
borhood fellow  by  the  name  of  Eaton,  who  was 
trying  to  make  known,  in  a  wild  and  incoherent 
way,  that  his  horse,  which  he  had  tied  to  the 
"worm"  fence  outside,  had  been  mutilated.  The 
one  desire  that  consumed  the  young  man  at  that 
time  was  to  get  his  hands  on  the  neck  of  the  fel- 
low who  did  it.  The  crowd  surged  down  the 
stairway  and  on  out  to  the  fence  where  the 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE TT 

horse  was  tied  and,  behold,  there  stood  a  beauti- 
ful dapple-gray  mare  shorn  of  her  mane,  and 
tail,  which  littered  the  ground  beneath  her  and 
which  she  quietly  tramped  with  her  feet  into  the 
soft  earth.  It  was  a  sight  to  make  one's  blood 
run  cold  for  an  instant  and  then  boil.  Mr. 
Nichols  says  that,  on  beholding  the  animal  thus 
shorn  of  her  beauty,  he  was  transfixed  with  an 
icy  chill  and  his  heart  went  "chugg"  into  his 
throat.  He  sensed  instantly  that  this  evidence 
of  hostility  was  not  intended  for  Eaton,  but 
for  himself  alone.  The  brothers  during  the  ex- 
citement slipped  on  down  the  road  unobserved 
and  made  their  way  to  a  clump  of  sumac,  from 
which  came  the  friendly  "nicker"  of  their 
horses.  The  dapple-gray  that  Mr.  Nichols  had 
ridden  was  unharmed,  and  so  great  was  his  joy 
thereat  that  he  put  his  arms  around  her  neck 
and  hugged  her  while  he  murmured,  "Oh,  little 
hoss,  how  glad  I  am  they  did  not  get  you!" 

It  was  a  long,  long  time  before  any  of  the 
boys  from  down  the  river  "forgot"  sufficiently 
to  be  again  beguiled  by  dances  over  at  the 
Davis  home.  But,  by  the  selfsame  "grapevine 
telegraph"  by  which  this  dark  deed  was  broad- 
casted, it  also  became  known  that  apologies 
were  extended  to  Eaton  by  the  head  of  the 


78 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

house  and  that  a  purse  of  $25,  which  went  with 
them,  helped  somewhat  to  repair  the  state  of 
Eaton's  feelings,  though  it  did  not  help  the 
looks  of  the  little  dapple-gray  a  cent's  worth. 

The  Old  "Rinosa"  Postoffice 

On  June  15,  1849,  four  years  before  the 
building  of  the  Illinois  Central  railroad,  the 
United  States  government  commissioned  the 
second  postoffice  to  be  established  south  of  the 
Kankakee  river,  in  Iroquois  county,  in  terri- 
tory now  included  within  the  boundaries  of 
Kankakee.  It  was  established  at  the  Roswell 
Nichols  home,  opposite  Rock  Creek,  with  Ros- 
well Nichols  as  postmaster.  This  office  was 
given  the  name  of  "Rinosa,"  a  modification  of 
the  Spanish  name  "Rinoca,"  adopted  on  the 
suggestion  of  one  Charles  Whipple,  a  young 
man  and  a  newspaper  writer  for  the  Chicago 
Journal,  who  happened  to  be  spending  some 
time  in  the  neighborhood  and  who  had,  some 
time  previously,  spent  several  months  in  Mex- 
ico, in  a  town  of  that  name.  There  was  just 
enough  euphony  and  mystery  in  the  title  to 
make  it  readily  acceptable  as  a  name  for  the 
new  postoffice,  and  it  was  accordingly  adopted. 
It  cost  in  that  day  twenty-five  cents  to  send  a 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 79 

letter  by  mail,  and  the  letter,  in  lieu  of  an  en- 
velope, was  written  on  one  side  of  the  paper  so 
that  it  could  be  folded,  sealed  and  addressed. 

On  the  death  of  Roswell  Nichols,  his  son, 
Frank  Nichols,  succeeded  as  the  postmaster  at 
Rinosa.  The  office  was  maintained  b}^  the  gov- 
ernment up  to  1875  and  was  discontinued  Sep- 
tember 17  of  that  year.  Mount  Langham,  as 
the  sightly  eminence  to  the  southeast  of  Aroma 
Park  is  known,  had  a  postoffice  eighty-one 
years  ago.  The  office  was  established  by  the 
government  August  26,  1842,  and  S.  C.  Dilley 
was  the  first  postmaster.  Thomas  Sammons 
was  appointed  as  his  successor  on  July  29, 
1846,  and  James  W.  Byrns,  the  third  post- 
master, was  appointed  on  June  29,  1847.  The 
office  was  discontinued  December  23,  1858.  It 
is  interesting  to  note,  with  regard  to  the  name 
"Mount  Langham,"  that  by  the  government  it 
was  known  as  "Mount  Langum."  A  query 
submitted  to  the  postoffice  department,  request- 
ing data  on  the  establishment  of  the  Mount 
Langham  postoffice,  brought  the  startling  in- 
formation that  "  in  all  the  state  of  Illinois  there 
was  not,  and  never  had  been,  a  postoffice  of  the 
name  of  Mount  Langham,  but  there  had  been 
one  named  "Mount  Langum,"  situated  in  Iro- 


80 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

quois  County.  Mr.  William  Byrns,  for  many 
years  a  resident  of  the  town  of  Aroma,  is 
authority  for  the  statement  that  in  the  very 
early  forties  a  young  man,  a  government  sur- 
veyor by  the  name  of  Langham,  or  Langum, 
had  his  camp  over  on  the  east  side  of  the  hill 
and  that  his  name  was  used  as  a  name  for  the 
new  postoffice  established  in  1842,  and  that  his 
Grandfather  Byrns  was  responsible  for  the 
term  "Mount"  used  as  a  prefix  to  the  surveyor's 
name,  making  the  name  of  the  office  "Mount 
Langum."  And  thus  the  name  of  a  young 
man,  otherwise  unknown,  has  been  perpetuated 
throughout  the  years. 

The  mail  was  brought  out  weekly  from  Joliet 
by  a  carrier  who  went  on  horseback,  stopping  at 
Dr.  Todd's  office  at  Rockville,  crossing  the 
river  to  Binosa  and  thence  to  Mount  Langum 
and  the  other  inland  offices  of  "Democrat,"  on 
Beaver  Creek,  Iroquois,  Plato,  Courtright's 
Mills,  Middleport,  Milford  and  on  down  to 
Danville. 

Kankakee's  first  postoffice  was  known  as 
Clarksville.  It  was  established  September  6, 
1853,  with  Samuel  L.  Knight  as  postmaster. 
It  was  discontinued  on  December  8, 1853.  The 
office  at  "Kankakee  Depot"  was  established  on 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 81 

October  3,  1853,  with  George  M.  Stowell  as 
postmaster.  The  name  of  the  office  was 
changed  to  Kankakee  on  June  7, 1866. 

Taxation  a  Burden  on  the  Early  Settler 

Taxation  has  always  proved  more  or  less  of 
a  bugbear  and  burden  to  mankind,  and  in  this 
respect  the  early  settlers  on  the  Kankakee  river 
were  no  exception.  In  the  spring  of  1851 
Sheriff  Sammons,  of  Iroquois  county,  rode  up 
to  the  Judson  Nichols  home  and  made  the 
rather  disquieting  announcement  that  he  had 
come  to  collect  a  bill.  Mr.  Nichols  had  married 
something  over  a  year  before,  and  was  living 
on  a  piece  of  land  his  father  had  given  him  out 
of  the  estate.  He  did  not  have  much  of  any- 
thing and,  so  far  as  he  knew,  did  not  owe  any- 
body, consequently  the  sheriff's  statement  that 
he  had  come  to  collect  a  bill  bowled  him  over 
completely.  Who  could  he  owe?  And  what 
for?  And  how  much?  All  these  were  ques- 
tions that  formulated  instantly  and  passed 
through  his  mind  with  the  rapidity  of  lightning. 
He  finally  collected  his  scattered  senses  suffi- 
ciently to  remark,  "Mr.  Sheriff,  there  must  be 
some  mistake  about  this." 


82 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

"Are  you  Judson  Nichols?"  queried  the 
Sheriff. 

"Yes,"  reluctantly  admitted  Mr.  Nichols. 

"Well,  then,  I've  got  a  bill  for  you,  and  I've 
come  to  collect  it." 

With  that  Sheriff  Sammons  placed  a  slip  of 
paper  in  his  hands  and,  to  his  great  astonish- 
ment, found  that  it  was  a  bill  for  his  personal 
taxes,  due  to  the  county  of  Iroquois,  for  the 
year  1850.  His  taxes  aggregated  the  enormous 
sum  of  thirty-two  cents,  to  which  sum  was 
added  two  cents  per  mile,  amounting  to  sev- 
enty-five cents,  which  was  the  sheriff's  fee  for 
collecting  it,  making  a  grand  total  of  one  dollar 
and  seventeen  cents  he  had  to  pay.  Of  the 
thirty-two  cents  levied  as  taxes,  seventeen  cents 
were  for  State  tax  and  fifteen  cents  for  county 
tax. 

Mr.  Nichols  has  kept  this  receipt  all  these 
years  as  a  souvenir  of  his  elevation  to  the  dig- 
nity of  a  tax-paying  citizen.  There  is  an  old 
saying  that  the  two  unavoidable  things  are 
"Death  and  Taxes."  Mr.  Nichols  says  that  by 
right  living  and  temperate  habits  it  is  possible 
to  cheat  the  grim  reaper  for  a  considerable  time, 
but  that  in  all  his  long  experience  he  has  never 
been  able  to  put  off  the  tax  man. 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 83 

The   Days  of  the  "Bogus   Island"  Horse 
Thief  Ring 

In  the  early  days  of  the  Kankakee  Valley, 
as  far  back  as  1838,  and  perhaps  earlier  than 
that,  the  settlers  were  subjected  to  frequent 
raids  by  a  highly  organized  band  of  horse 
thieves  who,  safely  intrenched  on  "Bogus  Is- 
land," over  the  line  in  Indiana,  a  spot  of  land 
surrounded  by  an  almost  impassable  morass 
known  as  Beaver  Lake,  were  aided  further  in 
their  operations  by  an  "underground  system," 
or  stations,  extending  into  Iowa,  on  the  west, 
and  into  Ohio,  on  the  east.  These  "stations" 
were  simply  individuals  who,  with  a  knowledge 
of  what  was  going  on,  were  in  the  pay  of  the 
gang  and  rendered  every  possible  service  in 
expediting  the  flight  of  the  thief  with  his  stolen 
booty,  east  or  west,  as  the  case  might  be,  and  in 
instances  where  pursuit  pressed  hard  on  the 
trail,  it  was  their  business  to  give  asylum  to 
both  thief  and  horse.  So  nicely  adjusted  was 
this  "underground  system,"  that  for  years 
horses  from  eastern  Iowa  and  from  western 
Ohio  were  run  through  and  successfully  dis- 
posed of  in  the  intervening  territory.  The  suc- 
cess of  these  operations  made  the  thieves  in- 
creasingly bold,  and  finally  it  got  so  that  they 


84 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

did  not  hesitate  to  pick  up  a  likely  looking  piece 
of  horse-flesh  anywhere  on  the  line.  The  sta- 
tion-keepers aided  very  materially  in  this,  for 
they  were  enabled  to  get  a  line  on  many  of  the 
local  horses,  which  they  tipped  off  to  headquar- 
ters. 

It  was  not  until  the  traffic  had  reached  con- 
siderable proportions  and  many  had  suffered 
loss  thereby,  that  the  settlers  decided  that  dras- 
tic measures  must  be  adopted.  In  the  spring 
of  1844,  according  to  Mr.  Nichols,  a  meeting  of 
the  settlers  was  held  at  the  home  of  "Uncle 
Tommy"  Durham  which  was  attended  by  near- 
ly all  the  settlers  on  the  river.  The  subject  was 
gone  over  thoroughly  and  opinion  was  unani- 
mous, or  nearly  so,  that  heroic  measures  must 
be  employed,  and,  as  a  result,  a  Vigilance  Com- 
mittee was  organized,  then  and  there,  the  said 
committee  embracing  in  its  roster  the  name  of 
every  man  present.  It  was  the  opinion  of  the 
committee  that  a  hanging  or  two  of  individuals 
engaged  in  the  nefarious  business  of  stealing 
horses  would  have  a  most  salutary  effect,  and 
they  went  forth  from  this  meeting  with  that 
idea  firmly  fixed  in  their  minds.  A  few  days 
after  the  organization  of  the  Vigilance  Com- 
mittee, Sheriff  Sammons,  of  Iroquois  county, 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 85 

who  happened  to  be  traveling  the  Limestone 
settlement,  told  of  meeting  a  suspicious  looking 
individual  on  horseback  whom  he  suspected  of 
being  a  horse  thief.  "Lant"  and  Baldwin 
Hawkins,  being  thus  advised,  mounted  their 
horses  and  rode  out  and  intercepted  the  stran- 
ger. They  questioned  him  closely,  but  his  an- 
swers were  generally  evasive,  and  far  from  sat- 
isfactory, and  the  sheriff's  opinion,  that  he  was 
bent  on  no  good  mission,  was  more  than  con- 
firmed. As  he  passed  on  down  the  river  the 
Hawkins  boys  followed  by  a  circuitous  route, 
keeping  well  out  of  sight.  They  trailed  him 
until  he  disappeared  into  the  scrub  oak  of  the 
"Barrens,"  and  while  they  were  consulting  as 
to  what  course  to  pursue  he  reappeared  with 
two  horses.  They  needed  no  further  proof 
now  as  to  his  calling,  and  immediately  the  two 
charged  upon  him,  whereupon  the  thief  (for 
such  he  evidently  was),  wheeled  his  horse  in 
the  direction  of  the  river  and  made  all  possible 
speed.  Baldwin  Hawkins  was  mounted  on  a 
handsome  black  stallion  and  gave  chase  to  in- 
tercept him,  if  possible,  before  he  could  reach 
the  river.  He  rode  a  speedy  horse,  but  the 
stranger's  was  speedier  still  and,  without  hesi- 
tating for  a  second  as  he  neared  the  river,  over 


86 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

the  bank  he  plunged  into  the  water,  with  Haw- 
kins close  behind  him.  Hawkins  called  re- 
peatedly to  the  stranger  to  surrender,  to  all  of 
which  he  paid  no  heed,  but  urged  his  horse  the 
faster.  He  might  have  made  good  his  escape 
had  not  his  horse  stumbled  when  about  two- 
thirds  of  the  way  across  the  river.  But  before 
he  could  recover,  Baldwin  Hawkins  was  up  to 
him  and  had  his  hand  on  his  collar.  Together 
they  rode  out  of  the  river  and  up  the  bank, 
where  they  were  joined  by  Alanson  Hawkins. 
Now,  the  latter  was  a  justice-of-the-peace, 
and  it  was  decided  to  try  the  stranger  instanter 
for  the  crime  of  horse-stealing.  One  thing  we 
can  commend  that  backwoods  court  for  and 
that  was  promptness  and  the  absence  of  un- 
necessary frills.  Although  the  evidence  was  cir- 
cumstantial and  somewhat  damaging  in  char- 
acter, it  was  insufficient,  but,  notwithstanding, 
the  court  being  "all  het  up"  on  account  of  the 
chase,  and  remembering,  probably,  the  newly 
taken  oath  of  the  Vigilance  Committee,  had 
just  about  decided  to  hang  the  prisoner  when 
Roswell  Nichols  appeared.  Mr.  Nichols  hap- 
pened along  just  in  the  nick  of  time.  Realizing 
what  was  in  the  wind,  he  urged  moderation  on 
the  part  of  the  court.     Accordingly,  the  pris- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 87 

oner,  instead  of  being  hung  then  and  there,  was 
bound  over  to  the  Iroquois  County  Circuit 
Court  at  Middleport,  and  the  sheriff,  being  on 
hand,  took  him  into  custody. 

Subsequent  events  tended  to  show  conclu- 
sively that  the  prisoner  was  the  especial  protege 
of  a  kindly  fate,  for,  having  escaped  hanging  by 
the  timely  intervention  of  Mr.  Nichols,  the  same 
kindly  fate  aided  him  in  eluding  the  sheriff's 
watchful  eye  while  on  the  way  to  Middleport. 
He  got  away  and  they  never  did  get  him. 

The  story  goes  that  there  was  only  one  man 
who,  in  the  palmy  days  of  the  horse-thief  ring, 
operating  from  "Bogus  Island,"  ever  pene- 
trated the  island  fastnesses  and  succeeded  in 
outwitting  the  outlaws  sufficiently  to  recover 
his  property,  and  that  man  was  none  other  than 
Capt.  Francois  Seguin,  of  Kankakee.  Seguin 
was  a  lover  of  fine  horses,  as  some  of  the  older 
residents  who  knew  him  well  can  testify,  and 
among  those  he  possessed  was  a  trim,  fast- 
stepping  little  mare,  which  was  his  especial 
pride.  The  mare  disappeared  one  da}^,  just  as 
other  people's  horses  disappeared,  and  Seguin 
was  much  disturbed  thereat.  He  did  not  say 
anything  about  it,  but  set  to  work  quietly  on 


88 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

his  own  account.  This  was  in  the  early  fifties, 
and  at  that  time  Momence,  which  was  a  con- 
siderable town  for  that  day,  had  a  tavern  which 
was  the  rendezvous  for  those  of  the  country- 
side who  enjoyed  a  glass  of  "corn"  whisky,  a 
hand  at  the  national  game  of  poker,  a  wrestling 
match,  a  foot  race  or  a  fight.  Seguin  shrewdly 
suspected  that  here  was  a  place  likely  to  be 
frequented  at  times  by  those  operating  from 
"Bogus  Island,"  and  thither  he  turned  his  steps 
in  the  hope  of  picking  up  some  clue.  He 
lounged  about  for  several  days,  keeping  his 
eyes  and  ears  open,  and  after  awhile  got  into  a 
poker  game.  The  game  went  on  for  hours,  and 
in  the  conversation  that  ensued  one  of  the  play- 
ers constantly  plied  Seguin  with  questions  as 
to  where  he  was  from,  his  business  and  the  like, 
to  all  of  which  Seguin  in  rough-and-ready  style 
made  answer  that  his  home  was  where  he  hung 
up  his  hat,  and  as  for  business,  he  turned  his 
hand  to  anything  and  was  not  squeamish  or 
over  particular,  just  so  it  paid  something  and 
was  sufficiently  exciting  to  keep  him  interested. 
Evidently  Seguin  was  to  the  fellow's  liking, 
for,  on  leaving,  he  arranged  to  meet  him  at  a 
point  on  the  Kankakee  river  over  the  state  line 
in  Indiana.    Seguin  made  his  way  to  the  place 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 89 

on  foot,  where,  in  the  course  of  several  hours,  his 
newly- found  friend  joined  him.  He  was  well 
mounted  and  led  another  horse,  which  Seguin 
was  invited  to  mount.  Together  they  set  off 
in  the  direction  of  Beaver  Lake,  the  stranger, 
in  the  meantime,  leading  up  to  the  matter  of  the 
business  in  hand  by  easy  stages  and  in  a 
guarded  manner,  but  making  the  inference 
clear  that  dealing  in  horses  was  the  industry 
which  was  to  occupy  their  attention.  Seguin 
accepted  the  proposition  enthusiastically  and 
expressed  his  regret  at  not  having  been  able  to 
connect  himself  long  before  with  an  enterprise 
so  much  to  his  liking  and  which  held  the  prom- 
ise of  rich  returns. 

The  "Bogus  Island"  of  that  day,  towards 
which  they  directed  their  steps,  was  a  patch  of 
land  several  acres  in  extent,  well  covered  with 
scrub-oak  and  with  a  sand-dune  or  two,  en- 
tirely surrounded  by  waters  of  Beaver  Lake, 
as  the  vast,  marshy  tract  was  known.  The  way 
in  and  out  from  this  island  stronghold  was  hard 
to  negotiate,  except  by  one  familiar  with  its 
idevious  ways,  and,  as  ill-luck  would  have  it, 
Seguin's  conductor  chose  to  go  in  after  dark. 
They  passed  through  water  that  came  well 
up  on  the  horses'  sides,   and   Seguin's  heart 


90 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

thumped  with  suppressed  excitement  as  his 
guide  led  on  and  up  the  well-beaten  pathway 
that  wound  its  serpentine  way  among  the 
brush,  stopping  finally  at  a  log  house,  the 
rendezvous  and  headquarters  of  the  thieves 
who  operated  the  great  "underground  system." 
They  found  four  or  five  men  there  on  their 
arrival,  members  of  the  gang,  who  were  en- 
gaged in  celebrating  a  successful  raid  by  in- 
dulging in  a  game  of  poker,  interspersed  with 
frequent  drinks.  Seguin,  realizing  his  danger, 
kept  a  level  head,  entered  spiritedly  into  the 
poker  game,  but  was  chary  of  the  whisky.  He 
soon  became  on  good  terms  with  the  men,  who 
readily  accepted  him,  since  he  came  well  recom- 
mended by  one  of  their  number,  and  they 
talked  unreservedly,  meanwhile,  of  their  opera- 
tions in  the  horse-stealing  line.  Among  the 
number  was  a  Frenchman,  whom  Seguin  cul- 
tivated assiduously  and  not  without  results,  for 
they  soon  established  friendly  relations  and  by 
reason  of  a  similarity  of  nationality,  got  on 
amazingly.  From  him  Seguin  gathered  many 
things  which,  otherwise,  would  have  required 
much  time.  Two  days  after  his  arrival  on  the 
island,  Seguin's  newly-found  friend  took  him 
to  view  the  horses,  and  his  heart  fairly  jumped 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 91 

into  his  throat  on  beholding  among  the  number 
his  favorite  mare,  for  which  he  had  risked  so 
much.  The  horses  were  kept  in  a  cleverly  con- 
structed "hillside  stable,"  dug  out  of  the  side 
of  a  sand-dune,  the  open  side  of  which  was  well 
concealed  with  brush. 

How  to  get  out  of  the  place  with  his  prop- 
erty was  the  all-engrossing  question  for 
Seguin.  He  knew  the  general  direction  by 
which  he  had  come  into  the  place,  and  he  knew 
also  that  plans  had  been  formulated  by  which 
a  party  was  to  move  eastward  with  the  horses 
in  an  effort  to  dispose  of  them.  If  he  rescued 
his  horse  from  the  hands  of  the  thieves  he  would 
have  to  act  speedily.  The  pathway  made  use 
of  by  the  robbers  in  gaining  access  to  the  island 
lay  pretty  well  to  the  south  side  of  it,  and 
Seguin  conceived  the  idea  of  going  in  a  direc- 
tion directly  opposite,  even  though  much  deep 
water  intervened  between  the  island  and  terra 
flrma  to  the  northwest.  In  the  dead  of  night  he 
made  his  way  stealthily  to  the  hillside  stable, 
secured  his  horse  and,  approaching  the  lake, 
plunged  boldly  in.  Both  man  and  horse  had  to 
swim  for  it,  and  it  was  a  long,  hard  pull,  but 
fortune's  favors  are  more  often  granted  to 
those  who  take  the  risk,  and  the  Captain's  lucky 


LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 


star  was  in  the  ascendant.  The  next  day  he 
appeared  in  Kankakee  with  his  favorite  mare, 
and  the  joy  he  experienced  in  having  her  back 
was  only  exceeded  by  the  satisfaction  he  felt 
in  having  outwitted  the  robbers  themselves  by 
going  into  their  stronghold. 

In  the  early  dusk  of  a  summer's  day  in  the 
year  1857,  a  stranger  on  horseback  rode  up 
to  the  Murray  House,  in  Kankakee.  This 
hotel,  a  three-story  brick  structure,  built  by 
"Uncle"  Jimmie  Lamb,  was  located  on  the 
south-east  corner  of  Court  Street  and  Dear- 
born Avenue,  and  did  real  justice  to  Kanka- 
kee's budding  aspirations  as  a  metropolis.  The 
stranger  put  up  for  the  night  and  was  assigned 
to  a  room  on  the  second  floor.  Citizen  William 
A.  Ott  was  at  that  time  the  city  marshal,  and 
the  sparse  mail  that  came  addressed  to  him  in 
that  day  consisted  mainly  of  notices  of  horses 
stolen,  together  with  descriptions  thereof,  and 
the  invariable  reward  for  the  apprehension  of 
the  thief  and  the  return  of  the  property.  On 
that  particular  evening,  as  horse  and  rider 
passed  by  on  Court  Street,  Marshal  Ott's  sub- 
conscious processes  were  suddenly  quickened 
and  set  in  motion  by  beholding  certain  marks 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE       93 

on  the  horse  that  had  at  some  time  been  enumer- 
ated in  an  identification  circular.  He  hastily 
consulted  his  files  and,  sure  enough,  there  they 
were,  especially  mention  of  the  white  fore- 
leg. Very  much  excited,  he  sought  the  stable 
where  the  horse  had  been  put  up  for  the  night, 
and  a  further  examination  revealed  other 
marks  that  served  to  identify  the  animal  beyond 
the  question  of  a  doubt.  He  lost  no  time  in 
notifying  Landlord  Morrow  of  his  discovery 
and  that  he  proposed  to  arrest  the  stranger. 
One  of  the  party  who  passed  up  to  the  second 
floor  with  the  crowd  to  witness  the  fun  was 
Roger  Sherman.  Marshal  Ott  pounded  loudly 
on  the  door  of  the  room,  announcing  in  a  loud 
voice  that  the  occupant  thereof  was  under  ar- 
rest and  that  he  should  come  forth  and  give 
himself  up  to  an  officer  of  the  law.  The  only 
response  was  an  ominous  clicking  from  within, 
as  of  someone  cocking  a  pistol.  The  marshal, 
somewhat  abashed  at  this  turn  of  affairs  and 
with  ardor  noticeably  cooled  at  the  possibility 
of  a  shot  through  the  door,  again  demanded 
that  he  come  forth  and  give  himself  up.  The 
silence  was  ominous.  The  marshal  hesitated. 
About  this  time  Roger  Sherman,  who  in  his 
younger  days  liked  something  "snapp}^"  in  the 


94 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

way  of  entertainment,  called  out,  "Say,  Ott, 
I'll  get  'im — do  you  want  'im?" 

"Yeah,"  replied  Ott,  rather  weakly. 

Immediately  Sherman  attacked  the  panels 
of  the  door  with  his  heavy  boots  and  in  a  very 
short  time  had  kicked  it  in,  despite  the  remon- 
strances of  the  crowd,  who  feared  that  he  might 
be  shot.  With  the  door  kicked  to  pieces  it  was 
only  the  work  of  a  moment  to  make  sure  of  the 
man  therein.  The  stranger  had  a  gun  of  the 
old-fashioned  powder-and-ball  variety,  but  it 
was  unloaded,  and  for  weeks  afterwards  con- 
troversy was  rife  among  those  who  witnessed 
the  incident  as  to  whether  the  fellow  would  have 
shot  Sherman  if  it  had  been  loaded!  Evi- 
dence far  more  incriminating  than  the  horse 
was  brought  to  light  when  the  saddle-bags  be- 
longing to  the  stranger  were  searched.  A  diary 
was  discovered  in  which  was  recorded  certain 
points  or  "stations"  such  as  Momence,  Mt. 
Langham,  Aroma,  Sugar  Island,  on  the  Iro- 
quois river,  Kankakee,  together  with  places 
down  the  river  as  far  as  Wilmington.  Ac- 
companying the  list  of  "stations"  were  the 
names  of  individuals  who  might  be  called  upon 
for  assistance  in  cases  of  emergency.  As  it 
turned  out,  it  was  the  most  important  capture 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 95 

in  all  the  history  of  the  "underground  system." 
Captain  Seguin,  on  hearing  of  what  had 
taken  place,  hurried  over  to  the  hotel  to  view 
the  prisoner.  Wonder  of  wonders !  The  pris- 
oner was  none  other  than  the  man  with  whom 
he  had  played  cards  at  Momence  and  later  ac- 
companied to  "Bogus  Island."  If  the  thief 
recognized  Seguin,  he  betrayed  not  the  slight- 
est evidence  of  it.  "You  don't  seem  to  know 
me,"  said  Seguin.  The  fellow  made  no  reply. 
"I  spent  several  days  with  you  at  Bogus 
Island,"  continued  Seguin,  "and  brought  back 
with  me  the  little  mare  you  fellows  stole.  If 
you  were  going  to  stay  there  I  might  call  on 
you  again ;  but  you  are  now  headed  for  a  place 
much  harder  to  get  out  of."  Seguin  spoke 
truly.  He  was  sentenced  to  a  term  in  the  peni- 
tentiary and  died  within  a  year. 

Limestone  Votes  Bonds  for  War  Bounties 

In  the  early  days  of  the  civil  war  the  first 
regiments  that  were  sent  out  were  composed 
wholly  of  volunteers,  who  came  from  all  parts 
of  the  country.  Three  days  after  the  Presi- 
dent's call  for  seventy-five  thousand  men,  one 
hundred  thousand  had  responded.  Mott  Lamb 
was  the  first  to  volunteer  from  the  town  of 


96 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

Limestone.  Later,  when  it  was  seen  that  we 
were  in  for  a  long  drawn  out  conflict  that 
would  tax  the  resources  of  the  country,  came 
the  dread  enactment  of  the  draft.  Five  men  in 
each  township  in  Kankakee  county  were  thus 
^drafted  for  service,  but  a  man  so  drafted  had 
the  privilege,  under  the  act,  of  hiring  a  substi- 
tute if,  for  any  reason,  he  could  not  or  did  not 
want  to  go  himself. 

In  the  town  of  Limestone  men  were  drafted 
who  were  the  heads  of  families  dependent  on 
their  labor  for  a  living,  men  who  had  not  the 
wherewithal  to  provide  a  substitute,  in  which 
case  the  burden  of  the  care  and  support  of  their 
families  fell,  naturally,  upon  the  town.  At  a 
meeting  of  the  citizens  of  the  town  of  Lime- 
stone the  sentiment  was  unanimous  that  the 
town  should  issue  bonds  and  meet  the  emer- 
gency in  a  broad  and  liberal  way,  to  wit :  That 
to  such  as  were  drafted  should  be  given  the  sum 
of  $500  to  purchase  a  substitute  where  neces- 
sary, or  to  be  retained  as  a  bounty  by  those  who 
saw  their  way  clear  to  go.  A  special  election 
was  accordingly  held  and  the  citizens  voted 
almost  unanimously  in  favor  of  a  bond  issue  of 
$3,000,  $2,500  of  which  was  for  bounties  and 
$500  to  cover  incidental  expenses  and  insure 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 97 

a  surplus  sufficient  to  meet  the  possible  con- 
tingency of  the  bonds  selling  considerably 
below  par. 

The  bonds  were  duly  issued  and  placed  in 
the  hands  of  Mr.  Judson  Nichols  to  be  mar- 
keted. At  this  juncture  it  became  evident  that 
certain  powerful  influences  in  the  city  of 
Kankakee  were  exerting  every  effort  to  check- 
mate the  bond  scheme  of  the  Limestone  citizens. 
The  claim  was  openly  made  that  the  act  of  the 
town  of  Limestone  in  issuing  bonds  for  a  mat- 
ter of  this  kind  was  unconstitutional  and,  there- 
fore, illegal.  Accordingly,  Mr.  Nichols  was 
cited  before  the  bar  of  the  Circuit  Court,  Judge 
Starr  presiding,  where  a  restraining  order  was 
sought  by  the  opposition  which  would  prevent 
him  disposing  of  the  bonds.  To  the  eternal 
credit  of  Judge  Starr,  be  it  said,  no  time  was 
wasted  in  preliminaries.  Said  he,  "Mr.  Nich- 
ols, you  go  ahead  and  sell  the  bonds.  There 
will  never  be  any  restraining  order  issued  from 
this  court  so  long  as  I  am  here." 

That  day  was  a  lucky  one  all  around,  says 
Mr.  Nichols,  for  on  the  way  home  that  after- 
noon he  stopped  at  the  home  of  Mr.  David 
Denny,  an  old-time  Limestone  resident,  and 
while  telling  him  all  about  what  had  happened, 


98 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

suddenly  Mr.  Denny  interrupted  him  with  the 
query,  "Say,  Jud,  why  shouldn't  I  buy  those 
bonds  ?  I've  got  the  money !"  Mr.  Nichols  was 
astounded,  for  three  thousand  dollars  in  cash  in 
that  day  was  a  very  large  sum  for  anyone  to 
have,  except  that  he  happened  to  be  a  banker. 
The  deal  for  the  bonds  was  closed  then  and  there 
and  they  brought  par.  As  Mr.  Nichols  turned 
over  the  bonds,  Mr.  Denny  handed  him  three 
one-thousand-dollar  bills,  which  he  brought 
forth  from  the  murky  recesses  of  a  bureau 
drawer.  The  bills  had  been  received  as  Mrs. 
Denny's  share  of  her  father's  estate.  Her 
father  was  Isaac  Nichols,  who  had  a  large 
estate  on  the  Mississippi  river.  Mr.  Nichols 
says  another  bit  of  good  fortune  awaited  them. 
In  that  day  of  unstable  and  fluctuating  cur- 
rency these  bills  Mr.  Denny  had  given  him 
were  so  good  that  they  brought  their  full  face 
value.  And  the  bonds  thus  issued  for  soldiers' 
bounties  by  the  town  of  Limestone  were,  in  the 
course  of  time  and  when  they  became  due,  duly 
redeemed,  just  as  the  Union  was  redeemed  by 
the  many  acts  of  courageous  self-sacrifice  and 
daring  on  the  part  of  the  loyal  citizenry 
throughout  the  land. 

The  opposition  did  not  stop  at  this  rebuff, 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 99 

however,  but  invoked  the  aid  of  one  of  the  Chi- 
cago courts  to  further  embarrass  and  make 
futile,  if  possible,  the  efforts  of  the  citizens  of 
Limestone.  Mr.  Nichols  was  delegated  to 
accompany  the  boys  selected  under  the  draft  to 
the  government  office  at  Joliet.  They  had 
heard  of  the  efforts  of  the  opposition  and,  to 
forestall  delay  and  long  drawn  out  controversy, 
Mr.  Nichols  and  his  five  charges,  on  their  ar- 
rival at  Matteson,  the  junction  of  the  Illinois 
Central  and  the  road  to  Joliet,  on  the  appear- 
ance of  a  south-bound  Illinois  Central  passen- 
ger train,  discreetly  took  refuge  behind  a  coal 
car  on  the  "Y"  until  the  train  pulled  out.  It 
was  well  they  did,  for  it  was  afterwards  learned 
that  the  ring-leaders  of  the  opposition  were  on 
board  that  train.  Thus  outwitting  their  op- 
ponents, the  little  party  arrived  in  Joliet,  and 
by  the  time  the  opposition  made  their  appear- 
ance, which  was  late  the  following  day,  it  was 
"Uncle  Sam"  and  not  Mr.  Nichols  they  had  to 
deal  with. 

That  night,  in  the  court  house  square  in 
Joliet,  the  "secessionist"  sympathizers  (and 
their  numbers  were  formidable)  held  a  meeting. 
A  big  bonfire  was  lighted,  an  empty  dry-goods 
box  was  rolled  out  into  the  square  and  became 


100 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

the  platform  from  which  many  an  individual 
expressed  himself  in  impromptu  speech,  de- 
nouncing the  government  as  exceeding  its  con- 
stitutional powers.  Some  there  were  who  spoke 
in  a  mild,  self-contained  manner,  but  their 
numbers  were  few.  Others,  in  the  rising  heat 
of  passion,  lost  themselves  completely  in  whole- 
sale denunciation  and  vituperation  until,  in  the 
end,  the  meeting  lost  all  semblance  of  an 
orderly  affair,  and  applauded  to  the  echo  vapid 
utterances  of  the  lurid,  red- fire,  hell  and  dyna- 
mite speakers.  Mr.  Nichols  and  Judge  Loomis 
mingled  with  the  crowd  that  evening,  and  both 
were  not  only  deeply  impressed  with  the  dem- 
onstration, but  greatly  distressed  and  ill  at  ease 
over  the  appalling  spectacle  of  a  house  divided 
against  itself.  For  hours  after  he  had  retired 
that  night  Mr.  Nichols  says  that  he  laid  awake, 
while  his  mind  dwelt  on  the  scenes  of  the  early 
evening,  recalling  again  and  again  the  seditious 
utterances  of  the  speakers.  And  the  state- 
ments of  some  of  the  more  rabid  of  these  im- 
promptu orators  from  the  ranks  of  northern 
citizens  seemed  more  terrible,  more  charged 
with  menace  to  the  government  than  did  the 
fact  of  armed  resistance  on  the  part  of  the 
South. 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 10T_ 

The  Cholera  Epidemic  of  1851 

The  scourge  of  "ague,"  with  its  accompani- 
ment of  chills  and  shakes  and  fever,  that  beset 
the  settler  in  the  new  country  of  the  Illinois, 
bad  as  it  was  and  disagreeable  as  it  was  to  bear, 
was  as  nothing  in  comparison  with  the  more 
dreadful  scourge  of  cholera  that  appeared  sud- 
denly in  June  of  1851  in  the  little  community 
of  Bourbonnais.  Asiatic  cholera  was  first  de- 
scribed by  a  Portuguese  physician  in  1560.  It 
is  said  to  be  always  present  in  Hindoostan.  In 
1817  it  began  moving  westward  from  Bengal 
until  it  overran  Persia,  and  in  the  year  1823 
touched  the  borders  of  Russia.  It  lay  dormant 
for  seven  years,  when  it  moved  forward  again, 
always  in  the  direction  of  the  great  human 
migrations.  It  swept  Russia  in  1830  and  Eng- 
land in  1832,  leaving  a  record  of  900,000  dead 
on  the  continent.  Cholera  first  appeared  in 
Quebec  in  June,  1832,  appearing  fourteen  days 
later  in  New  York  and,  following  the  lines  of 
commerce  and  travel,  was  diffused  throughout 
the  interior  of  the  country  by  October  of  that 
year,  appearing  at  St.  Louis  and  New  Orleans. 

The  next  appearance  of  the  dread  disease 
was  in  1851.  In  the  memories  of  some  of  the 
older  settlers  on  the  Kankakee,  it  is  recalled 


102 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

that  a  party  of  twenty  or  thirty  French  immi- 
grants from  Canada  came  to  Bourbonnais  in 
June,  bringing  with  them  the  body  of  a  child 
that  had  died  the  day  before  at  Joliet.  The 
next  morning  one  of  the  number  was  stricken 
down  by  the  terrible  scourge.  The  weather 
being  very  warm,  these  immigrants  lodged  in 
Mr.  Noel  Vasseur's  barn.  By  eleven  o'clock 
the  same  day  eight  or  ten  more  were  taken  ill, 
and  before  ten  o'clock  that  night  fifteen  of  the 
number  had  been  seized  and  all  died.  The 
panic  created  was  such  that,  when  a  member  of 
a  family  was  stricken  down,  the  rest  fled  in  ter- 
ror and  left  the  helpless  victim  to  perish  alone. 
Travelers  passing  to  and  fro  between  Joliet 
and  the  Wabash  valley  went  twenty  to  thirty 
miles  out  of  their  direct  course  to  avoid  the 
cholera  district  at  Bourbonnais. 

The  family  of  Samuel  Davis,  who  lived  sev- 
eral miles  on  beyond  Bourbonnais  on  what  is 
still  known  as  Davis  creek,  was  stricken  by 
the  malady  in  July,  Mr.  Davis  dying  on  the 
21st.  A  daughter,  Virginia,  and  a  son, 
Nathaniel,  died  July  28,  and  on  the  day  follow- 
ing a  son,  Henry  D.  C.  Davis,  died.  These 
bodies  were  interred  in  the  Van  Meter  ceme- 
tery, on  the  present  Goodwin  farm.    It  is  re- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 103 

lated  that  the  daughter,  Virginia,  who  at  that 
time  was  working  at  old  Middleport,  then  the 
county-seat  of  Iroquois  county,  made  a  trip 
home  the  day  of  her  father's  funeral.  It  so  hap- 
pened that  on  her  way  out  to  the  home  beyond 
Bourbonnais  she  met  the  funeral  party  on  its 
way  to  the  Van  Meter  cemetery  with  the  body 
of  her  father.  In  a  frenzy  of  grief  at  this  sud- 
den denouement,  she  insisted  that  the  coffin  be 
opened  so  that  she  might  look  again  upon  her 
father's  face.  It  was  a  hazardous  thing  to  do 
and  those  in  charge  remonstrated  with  her,  but 
without  avail.  On  arriving  at  the  cemetery, 
before  the  body  was  laid  away  the  coffin  was 
opened,  and  Virginia  looked  upon  the  remains 
of  her  father.  One  week  later,  on  the  28th 
of  July,  Virginia  and  a  younger  brother, 
Nathaniel,  succumbed  to  the  dread  disease,  and 
on  the  day  following  Henry  D.  C.  Davis 
passed  away.  Opinion  among  the  settlers,  who 
recall  the  deaths  in  the  Davis  family,  is  divided 
to  this  day  as  to  the  real  cause.  By  some  it  is 
maintained  that  Davis  had  put  out  a  lot  of 
strychnine  for  rats,  with  which  the  place  was 
infested,  and  that  the  rats  made  their  way  into 
the  well  for  water  and  died,  thereby  polluting 
the  water  supply  of  which  the  Davis  family 


104 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

made  use.  Others  are  equally  positive  that 
they  fell  victims  to  the  scourge  of  cholera 
brought  to  the  neighborhood  by  the  French 
immigrants  who  came  to  Bourbonnais.  Cholera 
was  more  or  less  prevalent  in  the  neighborhood 
of  Bourbonnais  for  three  years,  and  it  is  said 
that  Dr.  C.  W.  Knott  was  the  only  physician 
in  attendance  upon  cholera  patients. 

The  County-Seat  Election  of  1853 

The  city  of  Kankakee  owes  a  debt  of  grati- 
tude to  the  valiant  voters  of  the  town  of  Lime- 
stone, incurred  something  like  seventy  years 
ago,  come  next  June,  which  has  never  been 
fully  and  completely  liquidated  and,  maybe, 
never  will  be.  The  enormous  import  of  this 
friendly  service  on  the  part  of  the  town  of 
Limestone  grows  with  the  mounting  years,  and 
were  the  total  of  this  friendly  debt  to  be  ex- 
pressed in  cold,  hard,  matter-of-fact  dollars 
and  cents,  why,  friends,  the  city  would  have 
been  hopelessly,  irreparably  bankrupt  years 
and  years  ago.  There  is  no  obligation  like  that 
imposed  by  an  act  of  downright,  whole-souled 
friendship.  You  have  heard,  probably,  of  the 
story  of  Damon  and  Pythias ;  listen  to  this — it 
is  different. 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 105 

In  1853  Kankakee  County  was  organized, 
the  territory  for  the  new  county  being  taken 
from  Will  on  the  north  and  Iroquois  on  the 
south.  To  begin  with,  there  were  six  town- 
ships—  Yellowhead,  Momence,  Bourbonnais, 
Rockville,  Aroma  and  Limestone.  Momence, 
in  the  eastern  part  of  the  county,  in  1853  was  a 
considerable  village,  while  Kankakee  was  in 
embryo,  at  that  time  hardly  a  name.  But  if 
Momence  enjoyed  the  distinction  of  being  a 
town  in  that  day,  so  the  Kankakee  that  was  to 
be  felt  the  impulse  of  that  mighty  force  by 
which  the  wilderness  has  since  been  converted 
into  an  empire — the  coming  of  the  railroad. 
June  21, 1853,  was  the  day  set  on  which  an  elec- 
tion was  to  be  held  to  decide  the  location  of 
the  county-seat.  Momence  was  an  active  candi- 
date that  day  for  the  honor,  as  was  likewise  the 
newly  born  City  of  Kankakee.  On  the  face  of 
things  the  odds  apparently  favored  the  se- 
lection of  Momence.  It  was  an  old  town, 
and  the  eastern  part  of  the  county  being 
more  thickly  settled,  had,  therefore,  that  most 
desirable  of  elements  in  a  fight  like  this,  legally 
qualified  voters  in  sufficient  numbers  to  carry 
the  proposition.  The  Illinois  Central  officials 
and  their  townsite  company,  Messrs.  Ketchum 


106 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

&  Gray,  after  a  careful  poll  of  the  voting 
strength  of  the  county,  were  ready  to  concede 
that  Momence  had  voting  strength  and  to 
spare,  but  that  was  all.  They  redoubled  their 
efforts  to  influence  public  sentiment  and  make 
clear  that  the  county-seat  of  a  great  sovereign 
county  like  Kankakee  should  be  located  on  a 
railroad.  Further,  the  townsite  company  do- 
nated the  present  magnificent  square  as  a  site 
for  the  court-house  and  later  agreed  to  con- 
tribute the  sum  of  $5,000  for  the  construction 
of  the  building.  Liberality  could  not  do  more. 
These  offers  were  vociferously  received  by  the 
scattered  population  in  the  western  part  of  the 
county,  and  were  even  generously  commented 
upon  by  those  residing  in  the  east  end,  but  to 
put  the  proposition  over  required  votes,  and  a 
final  analysis  of  the  situation  showed  conclu- 
sively that  Momence  had  the  votes  and  a  com- 
fortable majority. 

At  this  time,  down  the  river  in  the  town  of 
Limestone,  a  little  community  had  built  up 
around  the  Powell  school,  a  little  stone  struc- 
ture 12x12,  whose  proportions  have  since  ex- 
panded to  12x24,  and  which  stands  today  as 
one  of  the  old  landmarks.  Here  was  located 
also  a  blacksmith  shop,  a  cooper  shop  and  a 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 107 

modest  country  store  that  supplied,  among 
other  things,  liquor  for  the  thirsty,  all  of  which, 
having  served  their  day,  have  long  since  passed 
out  of  existence.  In  our  capacity  as  historian 
we  may  record  here  that  "Boney"  Arthur  was 
the  blacksmith,  Eph  Reynolds  was  the  cooper 
and  wagonmaker,  and  Windt  Martin  and 
Charley  Vaughn  presided  over  the  store.  In 
the  fall  of  1852  the  Illinois  Central  railroad 
opened  the  first  stone  quarry  on  the  south  bank 
of  the  river,  only  a  few  hundred  feet  distant 
from  the  little  settlement,  and  here  was  quar- 
ried a  fine  quality  of  heavy  dimension  stone 
used  in  constructing  the  piers  for  the  bridge 
at  Kankakee,  the  old  Court  Street  viaduct,  as 
well  as  for  all  the  culverts  on  the  road  for  a 
great  distance  north  and  south  of  Kankakee. 
A  considerable  force  was  employed  here  in  the 
work  of  quarrying,  a  hardy,  devil-may-care 
type  of  individual,  who  with  a  drink  or  two 
beneath  his  "wamus"  often  came  into  conflict 
with  the  real,  dyed-in-the-wool  settler,  for 
whom  the  settlement  was  the  Mecca  of  his 
leisure  hours  (which  were  all  too  many)  and 
where  he  absorbed  the  juice  of  the  corn  as  well 
as  something  of  the  gossip  that  went  the 
rounds.     The   early   settlers   of   the  town   of 


108 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

Limestone  were  remarkable  for  their  tenacity 
of  opinion,  and  force  was  often  resorted  to  to 
maintain  the  dignity  of  a  statement  once  made 
and  also  to  convince  the  other  fellow,  when 
reasonable  argument  failed.  So  frequent  were 
the  set-tos  that  occurred  that  the  settlement 
came  to  be  known  as  "Bang-All,"  and  the 
green,  that  extended  from  the  road  down  to  the 
river,  as  "Bang- All  Green."  Now,  "Bang- All" 
is  suggestive  of  muscular  force,  called  into  ac- 
tion on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  through  heat  of 
anger,  or  just  for  fun,  and  which  sometimes 
went  so  far  as  to  include  the  innocent  by- 
stander. If  that  is  the  idea  you  get  of  the  term 
"Bang- All"  it  is  correct. 

On  this  21st  of  June,  1853,  the  day  of  the 
election,  which  was  to  settle  the  momentous 
question  of  the  location  of  the  county-seat,  the 
polls  had  been  duly  opened  in  the  little  stone 
school  house  and  the  meager  voting  populace 
of  the  town  of  Limestone  having  voted  zeal- 
ously for  "Kankakee  Depot,"  stood  around  in 
anxious  expectancy  as  if  sensing  that  some- 
thing unusual  was  in  the  wind.  They  did  not 
have  to  wait  for  long.  Up  from  the  river 
came  the  quarry  gang  headed  by  a  well-known 
Limestoner,  Mr.  Byrns,  and  Mr.  Lindsley,  the 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 109 

Illinois  Central  contractor.  They  charged 
peacefully  and  decorously  on  the  little  school 
house,  where  they  were  received  by  the  elec- 
tion board  with  sundry  unmistakable  evidences 
of  cordiality  and  affability,  which  increased, 
perceptibly,  as  the  boys  plugged  for  "Kanka- 
kee Depot."  It  was  then  that  the  news  ran 
from  one  to  another,  with  the  rapidity  of  a 
prairie  fire,  that  the  Central  was  going  to  vote 
every  man  employed  on  the  work.  Heartened 
by  this  cheering  intelligence  the  Limestone 
denizen  voted  again,  only  this  time  he  walked 
by  an  open  window,  outside  the  building,  his 
body  ducked  low,  and  only  the  hand  with  the 
ballot  visible  above  the  window-ledge  and, 
strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  fictitious  name  that 
he  gave  was  perfectly  familiar  to  the  judges, 
and  the  ballot  was  accepted  without  question. 
Up  the  road,  in  the  direction  of  Sacramento 
City,  appeared  a  cloud  of  dust  no  larger  than 
a  man's  hand.  This  cloud  grew  larger  as  it 
drew  nearer,  and  finally,  from  it,  emerged 
"Uncle"  John  VanWert  with  four  yoke  of 
cattle  hitched  to  a  low-swung  platform  wagon, 
or  "stone-boat."  He  had  brought  to  the  scene 
of  the  fray  a  bunch  of  twenty  as  jolly  devils 
as  ever  cut  a  throat  or  scuttled  a  ship,  all  by 


110 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

"fast  bull  express."  Shortly  after,  there  were 
other  arrivals  by  wagon,  north  of  the  river, 
and  these  were  brought  over  in  boats.  From 
down  around  Chebanse,  where  the  graders 
were  at  work,  Milo  June,  a  down-east  Yankee, 
an  old  stage  driver,  who  had  charge  of  the 
horses  on  the  work,  brought  still  other  loads  of 
men.  The  little  school  house  was  crowded  to 
suffocation  and  the  voting  went  merrily  on. 
Liquor  was  not  taboo  in  that  day,  and  the  little 
store  that  contained  the  supply  and  the  old 
stone  school  house,  where  the  voting  was  going 
on,  were  the  two  principal  points  of  interest, 
indicated  by  a  more  or  less  wavering  line  of 
humanity  that  extended  between  them. 

About  the  time  the  voting  was  at  its  height, 
a  well  dressed  stranger  with  a  burly  body- 
guard, drove  up  to  the  polling  place.  His 
faultless  attire  was  rendered  all  the  more  con- 
spicuous by  a  silk  hat,  something  unusual,  at 
least,  as  viewed  by  the  citizens  of  Limestone. 
The  stranger  plunged  without  hesitation  into 
the  school  room  and  wormed  his  way  through 
the  crowd  until  he  got  to  where  the  judges  of 
election  were  sitting,  when  he  exclaimed  in  a 
loud  voice: 

"There  is  fraudulent  voting  going  on  here. 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 111 

I  challenge  that  man,"  pointing  with  a  men- 
acing finger  towards  a  culprit,  built  like  an 
ice-box,  who  was  in  the  act  of  depositing  his 
ballot.  But  the  challenge  went  unheeded.  It 
was  annoying,  of  course,  to  have  the  regular 
program  interfered  with,  especially  by  a  stran- 
ger and  a  member  of  the  opposition.  The  chal- 
lenges were  repeated  as  fast  as  a  voter  came 
up  until  finally  Mina  Vining  reached  over 
through  the  crowd  and  punched  the  stranger  in 
the  back  with  his  walking  stick,  with  the  re- 
mark : 

"Say,  what  the  hell  business  you  got  comin' 
down  here  a-hornin'  into  the  affairs  of  respec- 
table people?  You  just  challenge  another  man 
and  I'll  mash  that  purty  plug  hat  o'  yours 
with  this  stick." 

There  was  an  answering  murmur  of  ap- 
proval from  the  crowd  which  the  stranger 
would  have  done  well  to  heed.  But  he  didn't. 
On  the  next  challenge,  crash!  came  Vining's 
stick  on  top  of  the  hat,  smashing  it  flat.  He 
kept  his  word  gloriously.  The  next  instant  the 
crowd  had  him  and  out  of  the  school  house  he 
went,  borne  aloft  over  the  heads  of  the  throng. 

"Throw  him  in  the  river,"  yelled  the  crowd, 
and,  as  it  was  all  the  same  to  the  jolly  bunch 


112 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

whether  they  strung  him  up.  or  threw  him  in  the 
river,  off  they  started  for  the  river.  The  burly 
individual  who  had  accompanied  the  stranger 
was  nowhere  to  be  seen ;  he  had  discreetly  taken 
to  the  woods,  not  figuratively,  but  literally. 
Left  alone  in  such  dire  straits,  the  challenger 
of  voters  begged  his  captors  not  to  throw  him 
in  the  river.  Some  wag  in  the  crowd  remarked : 

"Say,  fellers,  it  would  be  too  bad  to  get  them 
nice  clothes  wet.  What  would  his  Ma  say? 
If  he'll  promise  to  go  on  home  and  'tend  to  his 
own  d n  business,  why,  I  say,  let  'im  go." 

The  stranger  was  only  too  glad  to  acquiesce, 
whereupon  the  crowd  let  him  down,  conducted 
him  to  the  buggy,  helped  him  in,  put  the  lines 
in  his  hands  and  admonished  him  in  one  soli- 
tary word— GIT!    And  he  GOT. 

Limestone  that  day  polled  a  total  of  nearly 
260  votes  and  was  the  deciding  factor  in  locat- 
ing the  county-seat  at  "Kankakee  Depot."  The 
vote  did  not  admit  of  any  analysis  because  it 
was  unanimous.  For  some  years  afterwards 
the  Limestone  citizen  continued  to  "point  with 
pride"  at  the  results  of  that  day,  though  others 
may  have  "viewed  with  alarm."  It  is  not  the 
purpose  of  this  story  to  enlarge  on  the  trials 
and    tribulations,    the   bickerings    and    wran- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 113 

glings,  the  woes  and  heart-burnings  that  fol- 
lowed as  an  aftermath  of  this  particular  elec- 
tion. The  feeling  was  so  intense  that,  for  a 
time,  it  seemed  as  though  Momence  might  se- 
cede. And  who  can  blame  her?  But  there 
was  no  good  place  to  secede  to,  except  over  the 
line  in  Indiana,  and  wisely  they  concluded  that 

"  'Twere  better  to  bear  the  ills  we  have, 

Than  to  fly  to  others  that  we  know  not  of." 

It  is  only  now,  in  the  time  of  the  third  and 
fourth  generations,  that  they  can  smile  when 
this  particular  occasion  is  mentioned.  Our 
ancient  fathers  at  the  bridge  at  Concord 

"Fired  the  shot  heard  'round  the  world." 

But  the  horny-handed  settler  down  in  the  town 
of  Limestone,  together  with  that  swashbuck- 
ling crew  of  buccaneers  from  the  works  of  the 
Illinois  Central,  directed  by  fate  and  aided  by 
luck,  nailed  down  the  county-seat  that  21st 
of  June,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1853,  so  hard 
and  tight  that  no  one  has  been  able  to  budge  it 
since. 

The  Letter  That  Never  Came 

A  good  many  years  ago,  in  fact,  some  time 
after  the  apportioning  of  territory  which  took 
a  part  off  Iroquois  and  a  part  off  Will  coun- 


1U LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

ties  to  form  the  present  county  of  Kankakee, 
there  lived  out  on  the  prairie,  beyond  the  Iro- 
quois river,  in  the  "Sugar  Island"  district,  just 
over  the  line  in  Kankakee  county,  a  French- 
man by  the  name  of  Esab  Giroux.  Esab,  who 
was  pretty  well  up  in  years,  had  a  bosom  friend 
and  boon  companion,  with  whom  he  had  shared 
the  privations  and  hard  fare  of  prairie  life  for 
many  years,  and  great  was  his  consternation 
when,  one  day,  the  friend  announced  his  deter- 
mination to  pull  out  for  California.  It  was 
with  deep  and  genuine  regret  that  Esab  parted 
with  his  pal  and  friend,  but  the  friend  prom- 
ised faithfully  to  write  (as  friends  are  wont 
to  do),  and,  though  Esab  could  neither  read 
nor  write,  nevertheless  that  promise  took  the 
keen  edge  off  his  sorrow,  buoyed  his  drooping 
spirits  and  made  life  endurable,  because  the 
future  held  something  to  look  forward  to. 

That  pioneer  Congressman,  "Long  John" 
Wentworth,  of  Chicago,  whose  congressional 
district  in  1844,  was  made  up  of  twenty- two 
counties,  among  other  valuable  services  ren- 
dered on  behalf  of  the  citizens  of  the  wilder- 
ness community,  established  now  and  then  an 
inland  postoffice,  notably,  one  on  Beaver 
Creek,  called  "Democrat,"  with  Jacob  Rake- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE      115 

straw  as  postmaster;  one  on  the  south  bank  of 
the  Kankakee  river,  opposite  Rock  Creek, 
named  "Rinosa,"  with  Roswell  Nichols  as 
postmaster.  Later,  in  1853,  largely  through 
his  instrumentality,  came  the  IllirTbis  Central 
railroad,  bringing  to  the  struggling  settlers  not 
only  increased  transportation  facilities,  but 
greatly  improved  postal  facilities,  following 
the  location  of  the  towns  of  Kankakee,  Che- 
banse,  Clifton,  Askum,  Danforth  and  Gilman. 
Chebanse  was  the  Mecca  of  Esab's  hopes 
and  longings  for  the  promised  letter,  and 
thither  he  wended  his  way  many,  many  times. 
He  looked  upon  the  postmaster  reverently 
and  addressed  him  with  bared  head  and  in  lan- 
guage most  respectful.  "Messieur  po'mas- 
taire,  you  have  one  letter  for  E-sab  Gi-roux?" 
And  the  postmaster  would  put  on  his  most  se- 
rious official  countenance  and  proceed  to  paw 
over  the  scanty  mail,  just  as  though  he  did  not 
know  what  the  mass  contained,  and  even  pre- 
tended to  scan  certain  missives  as  though  he 
was  not  quite  sure  of  the  address,  only  to  shake 
his  head  at  last  and  say,  "Nothing  for  you  to- 
day." At  last  it  got  so  that  these  words  of 
the  postmaster  were,  to  Esab,  like  the  sentence 
of  death  pronounced  by  the  court  on  the  pris- 


116 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

oner  at  the  bar — like  the  thrust  of  a  knife  in 
a  vital  spot.  And  always,  after  a  visit  to  the 
Chebanse  postoffice,  it  was  a  sad,  weary,  crum- 
pled looking  figure  that  took  its  way  back 
slowly  over  the  lonely  trail  to  the  still  more 
lonely  shack  on  the  prairie. 

Very,  very  many  times  the  quest  was  re- 
peated (for  Esab  had  confidence  in  the  prom- 
ise of  a  friend,  even  as  you  and  me),  and, 
though  disappointment  was  keen  and  the 
clouds  at  times  dark  and  forbidding,  yet, 
through  them,  shone  the  lodestar  of  hope  that 
held  a  promise  for  still  another  day.  One 
day  he  appeared  at  the  postoffice  with  his  face 
beaming  with  an  unusual  glow,  as  though  he 
had,  at  last,  fathomed  the  mystery  of  the  long- 
sought  letter.  He  got  down  close  until  his 
countenance  was  fairly  framed  in  the  little 
window  of  the  general  delivery,  when  he  whis- 
pered this  query  to  the  one  within:  "Messieur 
po'mastaire,  sir,  excus-a  moi;  but,  mebbe,  you 
got  one  letter  for  SAB!  Sometam  m'  fren' 
he  call  me  SAB,  jes'  lak  dat!"  But  Messieur, 
le  po'mastaire,  without  going  through  the  for- 
mality of  looking  through  the  half-dozen  let- 
ters in  the  office,  told  him  regretfully,  almost 
tearfully,  "Nothing  doing." 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 117 

Removing  a  Kiss  with  Soft  Soap 
Mrs.  Lyons,  daughter  of  that  pioneer  of  pio- 
neers, Dr.  W.  M.  Hayhurst,  who  settled  in  the 
very  early  days  at  Sherburnville,  Kankakee 
county,  was  born  in  Yellowhead  township,  not 
far  from  where  her  home  is  today,  in  the  year 
1842.  The  home  she  occupies  today  in  the  vil- 
lage of  Sherburnville,  she  says,  is  about  the  cen- 
ter where  stood  a  very  populous  Indian  village 
of  the  Pottawattomies  that  was  maintained 
there  for  a  great  many  years,  and  which  she 
remembers  perfectly  during  her  girlhood  days. 
Among  the  old-time  chiefs  she  recalls  were 
White  Pigeon,  Turkey-Foot  and  Tah-Way, 
the  latter  a  giant  in  stature,  measuring  nearly 
seven  feet  in  height  and  whose  feet  were  re- 
puted to  be  eighteen  inches  in  length.  She  had 
good  reason  to  remember  the  giant  Tah-Way 
for,  one  day,  while  she  was  a  little  girl,  he 
grabbed  her  up  and  in  playful  mood  implanted 
a  hearty  kiss  on  her  cheek.  He  then  held  her 
firmly  and  laughed  heartily  as  she  beat  him  on 
the  head  and  in  the  face,  in  futile,  childish  rage. 
On  setting  her  down,  she  immediately  made  for 
the  house  and  sought  her  mother's  soft-soap  jar 
and,  scooping  up  a  handful  of  the  liquid,  she 
smeared  the  spot  on  her  face  where  Tah- Way's 


118 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

fierce  kiss  seemed  still  to  burn,  piling  it  on  good 
and  thick.  Fortunately  for  her,  her  mother 
discovered  what  she  had  done  in  time  to  remove 
the  soap  before  the  lye  in  the  mixture  removed 
the  skin  on  her  cheek,  and  with  it,  all  traces 
of  Tah- Way's  kiss.  Always,  after  that,  she 
looked  upon  Tah- Way  in  open  and  undis- 
guised hostility,  and  for  him  she  had  no  word 
or  friendly  smile.  Between  them  there  could 
be  no  "burying  of  the  hatchet,"  no  resumption 
of  friendly  relations.  And  Tah- Way's  rage 
was  expressed  in  smiles  and  immoderate  laugh- 
ter every  time  he  laid  eyes  on  her. 

The  people  who  first  settled  in  and  around 
Sherburnville  came  from  the  country  of  the 
Wabash,  in  Indiana.  In  the  palmy  days  of  the 
village  there  were  thirty- two  houses.  For 
years  there  were  two  stores,  a  blacksmith  shop, 
a  wagon  shop,  and  other  industries  such  as  the 
community  required.  The  country  of  eastern 
Kankakee  county  about  Sherburnville,  was 
beautifully  diversified  in  that  early  day  with 
woods  and  intervals  of  wonderfully  rich  farm- 
ing lands.  Mr.  Hayhurst,  on  his  advent  into 
the  country,  brought  with  him  from  the  Wa- 
bash nine  people,  among  them  one  Bateese 
Pastania,  a  Frenchman,  who  remained  with  the 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 119 

family  for  a  great  many  years.  The  grounds 
in  and  about  the  village  yield  a  great  many 
interesting  relics  of  the  days  of  the  aborigines, 
and  Mrs.  Lyons  has  an  interesting  collection. 

The  Eccentric  Dan  Parmlee 
Dan  Parmlee,  an  old-time  hunter,  trapper 
and  fisherman  on  the  Kankakee,  was,  for  many 
years,  a  familiar  figure  to  those  living  in  Yel- 
lowhead  township  and  in  the  country  east  of 
Momence  on  the  river.  For  years  he  camped 
and  fished  on  the  Kankakee  from  Yellow 
Banks  to  and  beyond  the  state  line  in  Indiana, 
living  the  simple  life  of  the  pioneer  and  re- 
ligiously avoiding  the  innovations  of  civiliza- 
tion. At  his  death,  some  years  ago,  he  was 
buried  in  the  Sherburnville  cemetery.  His 
principal  abode  on  the  river  he  called  "The 
Garden  of  Eden."  It  was  a  most  beautiful 
spot  naturally,  and  here  he  assembled,  in  the 
course  of  the  years,  a  wonderful  collection  of 
Indian  implements,  arrowheads,  curios  and  the 
like,  which  the  river  trails  had  yielded  up  to 
this  later-day  nomad. 

But,  for  all  that,  it  was  an  "Eve-less"  Eden, 
notwithstanding  that  now  and  then  the  old 
man  would  hint  broadly  and  make  it  plain  by 


120 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

inference  that  he  was  not  averse  to  doubling  in 
matrimonial  harness.  The  occasion  for  these 
"broad  hints"  and  pointed  allusions  fell  most 
generally  at  such  times  when  he  happened  to 
be  within  easy  speaking  distance  of  some  fe- 
male not  as  yet  appropriated.  It  should  not 
be  understood  that  he  "played  favorites"  par- 
ticularly. As  a  matter  of  fact  they  all  "looked 
good."  His  announcements  as  to  his  matri- 
monial inclinations  were  always  couched  in 
terms  vaguely  impersonal  yet  all-inclusive. 
Where  he  fell  down  in  the  matrimonial  game, 
apparently,  was  by  simply  resting  content  on 
making  it  known  that  "Barkis  was  willin',"  and 
letting  it  go  at  that. 

It  is  related  of  him  that,  on  returning  from 
one  of  his  protracted  tours  afoot,  down  in  Mis- 
souri, he  landed  in  Momence  one  year  in  the 
early  spring,  making  his  way  to  the  Thomas 
Nichols  home.  The  roadside  ditches  that  had 
been  full  of  water  earlier  in  the  season  had 
frozen  over,  and  the  water  had  run  out  leaving 
a  stretch  of  rather  unstable  ice.  The  Nichols 
boys  saw  the  old  man  coming  and  went  out  to 
meet  him  when,  to  their  great  surprise,  he  sud- 
denly disappeared.  He  had  stepped  on  the 
rotten  ice  and  broken  through  into  the  ditch. 


DR.  BENJAMIN  F.  URAN 

A  KANKAKEE  COUNTY  PRODUCT,  STILL  A  PRACTICING  PHY- 
SICIAN WITH  MANY  YEARS  OF  SUCCESSFUL  SERVICE  TO 
HIS  CREDIT;  PRESIDENT  OF  THE  KANKAKEE  COUNTY  HIS- 
TORICAL SOCIETY,  AND  THROUGH  WHOSE  UNFLAGGING 
ZEAL  AND  ENTHUSIASM  INTEREST  IN  THE  AFFAIRS  OF 
PIONEER   DAYS  HAS  BEEN  KEPT  ALIVE 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 121 

When  he  emerged  he  was  so  plastered  with 
soft  mud  as  to  be  wholly  unrecognizable,  a  most 
grotesque  and  ludicrous  figure.  He  worked  to 
get  the  mud  out  of  his  eyes,  while  the  boys, 
convulsed  with  laughter  at  the  odd  spectacle, 
exclaimed:  "Why,  Dan,  is  that  you?"  With- 
out deigning  reply  to  the  question  as  to  his 
identity,  the  old  man  came  back  like  a  flash 
with  the  inquiry:  "Say,  Tom,  is  yer  sister 
married  yet?" 

That  incident  furnished  a  good  deal  of  mer- 
riment for  those  living  up  in  the  northeast  part 
of  the  county  who  knew  something  of  old 
Dan's  matrimonial  longings,  and  even  the  lady 
who  was  the  object  of  Dan's  solicitous  query, 
laughed  and  had  as  much  out  of  it  as  the  rest 
of  them. 

A  Notable  War-Time  Dance  and  Oyster 
Supper 

Those  were  dark,  dark  days  and  trying  times 
back  in  the  early  days  of  the  rebellion.  It 
seemed  as  though  the  nation  had  received  a 
blow  from  which  it  could  not  possibly  recover. 
With  the  youth  of  the  land  going  out  from  the 
homes  to  the  battlefields,  with  increasing  cas- 
ualty lists  coming  in  accompanied  by  the  dis- 


U2 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

spiriting  news  of  still  another  defeat  for  the 
Union  cause,  the  loyal  citizenry  at  home  were 
weighed  down  and  all  but  overwhelmed  by  sor- 
row and  doubt  and  anxiety.  Naturally,  under 
conditions  such  as  these,  the  social  life  of  the 
community  languished,  for  how  could  anyone 
be  merry,  or  even  think  of  being  joyful,  with 
the  heart  bowed  down  by  the  great  burden  so 
suddenly  thrust  upon  it?  An  all- wise  Provi- 
dence, however,  has  endowed  youth  with  a 
lightsomeness  of  spirit  and  a  resiliency  that 
tempers  the  shock  of  disaster  and,  after  two 
years  of  disastrous,  discouraging  war,  this  ele- 
ment in  the  young  people  of  Kankakee  asserted 
itself  and  a  dance  and  oyster  supper,  the  first 
in  many  and  many  a  dreary  month,  were  held 
at  the  home  of  Gurdon  Durham. 

Gurdon  Durham  was  the  son  of  "Uncle 
Tommy"  Durham,  and  his  home  stood  very 
close  to  where,  in  this  day,  is  located  the  big 
front  door  of  the  east  building  of  the  Bradley 
factory.  The  dance  was  held  in  the  month  of 
November,  1862.  The  music  for  the  occasion 
was  furnished  by  Signor  Evans,  or  Ole  Bull, 
as  he  sometimes  styled  himself,  and  his  pupil, 
Amos  Cole,  who,  under  the  careful  tutorship 
of  Evans,  for  many  years  afterwards  held  a 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 123 

foremost  position  among  the  violinists  of  the 
United  States.  The  following  is  a  complete 
list  (with  a  possible  exception  or  two) ,  of  those 
in  attendance  that  night : 

First  of  all  was  Gabriel  Durham,  who,  some- 
thing over  a  year  later,  was  destined  to  be  the 
first  to  fall  on  that  great  field  of  Gettysburg, 
William  Gougar  and  his  sister  Margaret,  or 
"Maggie,"  as  she  was  known,  Rennick  Van- 
Meter,  Alfred  VanMeter,  Hazzard  Worrell, 
William  Worrell,  Osborne  VanMeter,  Freem 
Denny,  Jennie  Worrell,  Marietta  Sasseen, 
Mary  and  Mattie  Perry,  Libbie  and  Frances 
Denny,  Net  Markle,  Delia  Stratton,  Lindy 
Jaquish,  Miss  Morrison,  Miss  Raines,  Carrie 
Scobey,  Hat  Durham,  Mary  Berchem,  Alice 
Woodruff,  Thomas  Buntain,  Ike  Dixon, 
Chauncey  Payne,  Gus  Worden,  Dr.  Benjamin 
F.  Uran,  Leroy  Payne,  Belle  Mosier,  Carrie 
Huckins,  Monroe  Swift. 

Under  the  stimulus  of  the  music,  which  was 
wonderful,  the  young  people  gave  themselves 
up  unreservedly  to  the  joy  of  the  evening  with 
all  their  old-time  zest  and  enthusiasm.  It  was 
good  to  invade  the  realm  of  joyousness  again 
after  so  many  months  of  gloom.  At  twelve 
o'clock  a  halt  was  called  and  the  young  ladies 


124 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

of  the  party  busied  themselves  with  prepara- 
tions for  the  supper.  It  was  near  one  o'clock 
and  most  of  the  party  were  still  at  supper  when 
there  came  a  rap  on  the  door.  Our  old-time 
friends,  moved  by  a  mild  curiosity  to  know  who 
thus  interrupted  their  gaiety  at  such  an  hour, 
looked  up  as  the  door  was  opened,  and  great 
was  their  wonder  and  surprise  to  behold  two 
well  known  Kankakeeans,  Dave  Vaughan  and 
Dave  Wickens,  members  of  McClellan's  dra- 
goons. The  boys  had  arrived  in  town  that 
night  by  a  late  Illinois  Central  train,  some- 
where around  twelve  o'clock,  and,  on  being  told 
that  there  was  a  dance  on  at  the  Gurdon  Dur- 
ham home,  they  set  out  on  foot  up  the  railroad 
track  to  the  house.  Dave  Vaughan's  feet  were 
so  badly  swollen  and  sore  that  he  could  hardly 
stand  the  rough  walking  on  the  railroad  track, 
but  he  stuck  to  it  gamely  and  came  through. 

There  was  no  more  dancing  for  that  night 
for,  after  the  shock  of  this  unexpected  meet- 
ing, and  the  greetings  that  followed,  while  the 
boys  satisfied  the  demands  of  hunger  by  con- 
suming the  tag  ends  of  the  banquet,  the  com- 
pany hung  with  breathless  interest  on  stories 
from  the  front  as  related  by  the  two.  So 
great  was  the  anguish  caused  by  his  swollen 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 125 

feet  that  Dave  Vaughan  finally  asked  permis- 
sion of  the  company  to  remove  his  boots,  where- 
with the  ladies,  like  true  ministering  angels,  in- 
sisted that  his  socks  be  also  removed  while  they 
heated  water  and  bathed  his  feet.  It  was  after 
four  o'clock  that  morning  when  the  party  broke 
up  and  the  all-absorbing  topic  that  engrossed 
them  as  they  left  for  their  homes  that  morning, 
was  not  the  dance,  which  was  one  of  the  most 
enjoyable  they  ever  had;  not  the  supper,  which 
was  perfectly  delicious;  not  the  music,  which 
was  heavenly,  produced  by  two  rare  artists; 
not  the  gracious  kindliness  of  host  and  hostess, 
which,  in  itself,  would  make  an  occasion  long 
to  be  remembered.  None  of  these  things  were 
recalled  on  the  way  home.  The  pleasures  of 
that  night  paled  into  insignificance  and,  for  the 
time,  were  lost  sight  of  as  they  talked  of  the  two 
home  boys  who  had  come,  miraculously,  so  it 
seemed,  out  of  the  zone  where  death  lurked, 
to  tell  them  something  of  that  hated  thing- 
war. 

The  First  Shopper  on  Court  Street 

Only  recently,  by  the  merest  chance,  we  ran 
across  the  man  who  made  the  first  purchase  in 
the  first  retail  store  ever  located  on   Court 


126 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

street,  away  back  in  1853.  Court  street  of 
today  is  rather  an  important  thoroughfare 
whose  daily  aggregate  of  business  mounts  up 
into  the  thousands  of  dollars,  and  it  is  hard  to 
realize  the  fact  that  the  beginnings  of  things  on 
the  street  is  still  alive  and  active  in  the  memory 
of  a  Kankakee  citizen,  but  such  is  the  case. 
Mr.  Phillip  Bacon,  of  767  O shorn  avenue,  is 
the  man  who,  some  time  in  the  fall  of  1853, 
bought  a  jack-knife  of  Clark  &  Roberts,  who 
opened  up  the  first  general  merchandising 
business  in  a  small,  unpretentious  wooden 
building  on  the  south  side  of  Court  street, 
where  now  is  located  the  Rondy  book  store. 
Mr.  Bacon  had  been  breaking  prairie  sod  with 
a  yoke  of  oxen  out  somewhere  this  side  of 
Bourbonnais  Grove  and  was  transferring  to 
another  job,  driving  his  oxen  along  the  trail 
that  wound  in  and  out  among  the  stumps,  when 
he  came  upon  the  new  place  of  business.  The 
firm  had  just  completed  their  building  and 
had  gotten  in  the  most  of  their  stock,  which 
was  still  piled  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  un- 
packed, when  the  first  customer,  in  the  person 
of  Mr.  Bacon,  walked  in.  Phil  wanted  a  jack- 
knife  badly,  and  the  new  firm,  having  the 
article  in  stock,  were  more  than  anxious  to  ac- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 127 

commodate  him  if  he  would  just  be  patient 
while  they  went  over  the  jumbled  mass  of 
merchandise  in  search  of  the  package  contain- 
ing it. 

The  knives  were  produced  in  due  time,  and 
of  the  number  contained  in  their  stock  Mr. 
Bacon  made  a  selection,  paying  seventy-five 
cents  for  it.  He  purchased  also  a  pair  of 
wooden  combs,  such  as  were  quite  generally 
used  in  that  day.  There  were  congratulations 
and  mutual  felicitations  on  the  part  of  the 
buyer  and  seller,  and  while  no  libations  were 
quaffed  in  honor  of  the  event  (this  all  happen- 
ing before  the  days  of  Radeke),  yet,  on  the 
whole,  it  was  looked  upon  in  the  light  of  an 
auspicious  happening,  the  new  firm  achieving 
its  first  sale  and  Mr.  Bacon  enjoying  the  glory 
of  being  the  first  customer. 

The  Court  street  of  that  far-off  day,  with  its 
one  business  house,  did  not  suggest  much  of  the 
aspect  or  activity  of  the  street  of  today,  as  you 
may  know.  Man  had  but  recently  laid  his  hand 
on  the  heavy  forest  that  enveloped  the  country- 
side, and  in  consequence  Court  street  of  that 
day  was  merely  a  channel  in  the  timber.  Just 
shut  your  eyes  and  give  rein  to  your  fancy,  and 
see  how  near  you  can  come  to  visualizing  the 


128 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

old  wagon  trail  that  wound  in  and  out  among 
the  stumps  in  an  easy-going  way,  with  now  and 
then  an  ox-team  and  its  creaking  wagon  mov- 
ing ever  so  slowly,  the  way  dotted  here  and 
there  by  a  lone  elm  or  basswood,  or  a  stately 
oak  that  had  somehow  escaped  the  woodman's 
axe,  the  air  vibrant  with  the  screams  of  the 
blue  jay,  the  woodpecker  and  the  yellow-ham- 
mer, and  the  lugubrious  croak  of  the  crow — 
voices  of  the  forest  primeval. 

It  will  be  a  hard  thing  to  do,  in  all  proba- 
bility, to  close  your  eyes  to  brick  pavements 
and  buildings  and  all  the  things  time  and  man 
have  wrought  in  seventy  years,  and  much 
harder  still  to  close  your  ears  to  the  din  of  loco- 
motives and  street  cars,  the  piercing  sirens  of 
hundreds  of  automobiles  and  the  babble  of 
human  voices.  In  the  event  that  you  are  dis- 
posed to  go  so  far  as  to  actually  close  your  eyes 
while  you  dream,  take  heed  and  be  very,  very 
careful  and  watch  your  step.  The  night  time 
would,  perhaps,  be  the  better  time  in  which  to 
indulge  your  reveries,  when  all  is  still  and  the 
moon  rides  high  in  the  heavens  in  all  her  glory, 
when  only  the  mild  voices  of  the  katydid  and 
the  cricket  will  tend  to  distract  your  powers  of 
concentration.    The  autos  that  infest  our  lives 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 129 

by  day  generally  pull  for  the  country  at  night. 
By  ten  o'clock  the  picture  shows  are  over;  by 
ten-thirty  the  police  are  resting  quietly,  as  a 
rule,  and  it  is  then  you  can  go  your  own  sweet 
way,  when  your  reveries  will  suffer  the  least 
interruption  in  your  efforts  to  picture  old  days 
on  Court  street. 

N.  B. — We  almost  forgot  to  warn  you  to  be 
careful  and  watch  out  for  the  milkman.  Don't 
let  him  run  over  you ! 

When  the  First  Locomotive  Came  to 
Kankakee 

Nearly  three-fourths  of  a  century  ago,  just 
seventy  years  this  coming  Fourth  of  July,  to 
be  exact,  a  thin,  keen,  wiry  youth  living  down 
the  river  in  the  Hawkins  settlement,  after  help- 
ing the  modest  celebration  to  get  under  way  by 
shinning  up  a  tree  and  planting  a  flagstaff 
bearing  the  Stars  and  Stripes  in  a  hollow  limb 
thereof,  stole  quietly  away  on  horseback  to 
where  the  Illinois  Central  was  building  into 
Kankakee.  This  youth  of  seventy  years  ago 
was  none  other  than  our  well-known  towns- 
man of  today,  Mr.  Elias  Powell.  While  on  a 
trip  with  supplies  for  the  construction  camps 
the  day  before,  he  had  heard  mentioned,  in  a 


130 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

casual  way,  that  a  real  locomotive,  the  first  to 
enter  Kankakee  over  the  newly  laid  roadbed, 
was  expected  July  4,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord, 
1853.  He  was  on  the  qui  vive  with  interest 
and  excitement.  Instinctively  he  felt  that  he 
was  to  witness  a  mighty  innovation  in  the  trans- 
portation problems  of  man,  and  in  this  he  was 
not  mistaken. 

The  locomotive  appeared  as  per  rumor  some 
time  between  eleven  and  twelve  o'clock.  Nat- 
urally, in  appearance  it  did  not  much  resemble 
the  monsters  of  today.  On  the  contrary,  it  was 
diminutive,  almost  infantile  in  size.  It  was  a 
wood-burner,  with  small  drivers,  and  the  old- 
fashioned  "diamond"  smokestack.  If  you 
think  our  hero's  eyes  did  not  bug-out  on  be- 
holding this  old-time  leviathan,  then  you  are 
entitled  to  another  guess.  It  could  make 
twenty-five  miles  an  hour  readily  and  under 
stress  might  be  pushed  to  thirty  miles  an  hour 
plus,  something  unthinkable,  surpassing  belief, 
when  one  recalls  that  it  was  the  day  of  the  ox- 
team,  whose  best  speed  was  about  thirty  miles 
in  ten  hours.  He  was  all  atremble  with  sup- 
pressed excitement;  he  was  conscious  now  and 
then  of  a  thrill  beneath  the  "homespun"  on  his 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 131 

back  as  this  hissing,  steaming,  pulsing  thing 
moved  majestically  along  the  newly-laid  track. 

He  guided  his  horse  along  a  precarious  trail 
that  ran  in  and  out  among  the  stumps  along  the 
right-of-way  (for  this  all  happened  in  the  days 
before  Kankakee  was  born),  keeping  pace 
easily  with  the  machine,  a  sort  of  reception 
committee  all  by  his  lonesome,  albeit  he  was 
anything  but  lonesome.  The  first  locomotive 
that  ever  came  to  Kankakee  proceeded  thus, 
escorted  by  a  youth  on  horseback,  to  what  is 
now  the  Hickory  street  crossing  of  the  Central, 
where  it  stopped  with  its  pilot  almost  over- 
hanging the  end  of  the  rails.  Little  by  little  he 
maneuvered  his  horse  up  to  within  an  easy  dis- 
tance of  the  machine  and  feasted  his  eyes  on 
this  strange  new  creation,  little  dreaming,  per- 
haps, that  he  would  one  day  be  a  builder  of  rail- 
roads himself  whereon  steam  would  be  passe, 
giving  way  to  the  more  subtle  electric  power. 

As  he  sat  astride  the  horse,  silently  con- 
templating the  wonderful  spectacle  before  him, 
suddenly  the  air  was  rent  by  a  piercing  screech 
of  the  locomotive's  whistle  that  awakened  the 
clamorous  echoes  of  the  woods  and  country- 
side and  sent  them  reverberating  far  out  onto 
the  distant  reaches  of  the  prairie.    It  was  like 


lgg LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

some  sudden,  terrific  challenge  to  the  sanctity 
and  repose  of  the  silent  places  of  the  wilder- 
ness. It  was  terrifying,  appalling !  The  horse, 
terrified  by  the  suddenness  of  it  all,  made  a 
spring  to  one  side,  and  the  rider,  taken  thus 
unawares,  awoke  to  a  realization  that  he  had 
suddenly  shifted  from  a  position  astride  the 
horse's  back  to  a  position  dangerously  near  the 
animal's  belly,  with  both  hands  entwined  in 
the  mane  and  the  heel  of  one  foot  hooked  over 
its  backbone.  But  he  was  young  and  wiry  and 
clung  to  that  horse  like  a  woodtick,  although  he 
acknowledges  that  he  would  be  all  to  the  bad 
were  he  to  attempt  a  similar  stunt  in  this  day. 
He  succeeded  in  regaining  his  position  astride 
the  horse,  but  after  that  "dirty  Irish  trick"  he 
found  that  his  interest  had  evaporated  consid- 
erably. The  way  that  engineer  held  his  sides 
and  laughed  did  not  help  him  in  the  least,  and 
for  many  years  afterwards,  he  says,  he  cher- 
ished an  animosity  and  deep  distrust  of  loco- 
motive engineers  generally. 

"Tall  oaks  from  little  acorns  grow,"  and  in- 
dustrial enterprises,  awe-inspiring  in  their  im- 
mensity, have,  for  the  most  part,  been  evolved 
from  modest  beginnings.  It's  a  long  trail  and 
an  interesting  one  that  connects  the  happen- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 133 

ings  of  that  far-off  Fourth  of  July  in  1853  with 
the  tremendous  developments  of  the  twentieth 
century  in  and  about  Kankakee,  and  they  are 
few  indeed  who,  having  lived  through  so  inter- 
esting a  period,  can  recall  so  accurately  and 
entertainingly  the  salient  points  of  history  as 
can  Mr.  Powell. 

Billy  Caldwell,  "The  Sau-ga-nash" 

Prominent  among  the  head  chiefs  of  the 
Pottawattomie  Nation  was  the  half-breed, 
Billy  Caldwell,  who  termed  himself  "The  Sau- 
ga-nash,"  or  The  White  Man.  Although  he 
and  his  band  were  not  residents  of  the  territory 
along  the  Kankakee  river,  yet  they  were  fre- 
quent visitors  here,  spending  many  months  at 
a  time  encamped  on  the  river  in  the  eastern 
part  of  the  county,  near  the  village  of  Chief 
Yellow  Head,  where  they  put  in  their  time 
hunting  and  fishing.  Billy  Caldwell  was  a 
brother-in-law  of  old  Chief  Yellow-Head, 
and  the  close  proximity  of  their  camps  on  the 
Kankakee  and  the  terms  of  peace  and  amity  on 
which  they  lived  may  have  been  influenced 
largely  by  this  relationship.  This  chief  was 
well  and  favorably  known  by  Hubbard,  Vas- 


134 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

seur  and  Bray,  the  first  white  men  in  Kankakee 
county. 

Billy  Caldwell,  from  the  time  of  the  battle 
of  Tippecanoe,  at  which  time  he,  with  Chab- 
bona,  was  allied  with  Chief  Tecumseh,  was 
always  a  staunch  friend  of  the  whites  and  of 
the  United  States  Government.  A  notable 
example  of  his  influence  and  friendliness  is 
shown  in  the  days  following  the  Fort  Dearborn 
massacre.  The  remnants  of  the  garrison  that 
had  escaped  the  tomahawk  at  the  first  on- 
slaught had  been  gathered  in  the  Kinzie  and 
Ouilmette  homes,  and  Black  Partridge  and 
other  Pottawattomie  chiefs  had  about  ex- 
hausted their  resources  in  their  efforts  to  hold 
back  the  savage  horde  that  thirsted  for  their 
blood,  when  Billy  Caldwell  suddenly  appeared. 
Black  Partridge  with  much  trepidation  in- 
quired, "Who  are  you?"  To  which  Caldwell 
replied,  "A  man.    Who  are  you?" 

"A  man,  like  yourself;  but  tell  me  who  you 
are,"  spoke  Black  Partridge,  meaning  by  that, 
"Which  side  are  you  for?"  And  the  reply  came, 
"I  am  a  Sau-ga-nash  !"  There  was  life  in 
that  answer  for  the  terror-stricken  whites,  for 
that  answer  meant,  "I  am  a  white  man,  pre- 
pared to  go  to  any  lengths  to  save  my  friends." 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 135 

Through  his  persuasive  powers  and  uncom- 
promising attitude,  he  finally  prevailed  on  the 
savages  to  accept  a  few  presents  and  leave  the 
place. 

The  United  States  Government,  in  conse- 
quence of  these  evidences  of  Caldwell's  friend- 
ship and  helpful  services  towards  the  whites, 
rewarded  him  substantially  in  almost  every 
treaty  entered  into  subsequently  with  the  Pot- 
tawattomie  Nation.  By  the  treaty  concluded 
July  29,  1829,  ratified  January  2,  1830,  Billy 
Caldwell  was  given  two  and  one-half  sections  of 
land  lying  on  the  Chicago  river.  By  the  treaty 
concluded  October  20,  1832,  and  ratified  Jan- 
uary 21,  1833,  he  was  to  be  paid  annually  dur- 
ing his  lifetime  $600  per  year.  By  the  treaty 
of  1835  he  was  granted  an  additional  annuity 
of  $400  per  year.  By  certain  other  treaties  fol- 
lowing in  the  course  of  years  he  was  awarded 
additional  small  annuities  that  brought  the 
total  thus  paid  him  by  the  government,  up  to  a 
very  respectable  figure.  He  was  worthy  in 
every  sense  of  the  liberal  dispensations 
awarded  him  by  the  Government,  and  it  is 
pleasing  to  know  that  in  this  case,  at  least,  full 
justice  was  done. 

It  is  recorded  that  at  the  Fort  Dearborn 


136 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

massacre  at  Chicago,  Captain  Heald  was  taken 
prisoner  by  a  Pottawattomie  from  the  Kanka- 
kee river,  who  had  a  very  strong  personal  re- 
gard for  him  and  who,  on  beholding  the  distress 
and  enfeebled  condition  of  Mrs.  Heald,  re- 
leased him  that  he  might  accompany  her  to  a 
place  of  safety  on  the  St.  Joseph  river.  Great 
was  his  mortification,  however,  on  reaching  his 
village  on  the  Kankakee  river,  to  find  that  his 
people  were  greatly  displeased  with  his  action. 
So  insistent  was  the  clamor  that  he  produce  the 
prisoner  that,  accordingly,  he  set  out  for  St. 
Joseph  river  to  recover  him.  In  the  meantime 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Heald  made  their  escape  to 
Mackinac,  being  delivered  into  the  hands  of  the 
British  as  prisoners  of  war. 

Tradition  has  not  preserved  to  us  the  name 
of  this  magnanimous  chief,  neither  is  there  the 
slightest  information  available  as  to  the  par- 
ticular village  he  belonged  to  here  on  the 
Kankakee  river.  But  this  we  do  know  con- 
cerning him,  and  that  is,  following  the  incident 
of  the  prisoner's  release,  the  Pottawattomie 
chief  forsook  his  own  name  and  adopted  in 
place  that  of  Captain  Heald,  and  signed  to  the 
treaty  of  1833  is  the  name  "Captain  Heald" 
by  his  mark.    We  who  abide  in  the  Valley  of 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 137 

the  Kankakee  today  should  get  much  satisfac- 
tion and  pleasure  from  the  knowledge  that  men 
of  the  distinctive  type  and  rugged  character  of 
Billy  Caldwell,  "The  Sau-ga-nash,"  and  "Cap- 
tain Heald,"  aborigines  though  they  were, 
pitched  their  tepees  under  our  wide- spreading 
oaks  and  followed  the  winding  trails  of  woods 
and  streams  where  our  homes  are  in  a  day  when 
its  primeval  beauty  and  bounteousness  rivaled 
the  Indian  dream  of  "The  Happy  Hunting 
Ground." 

Chief  "Chabbona,"  The  Grand  Old  Man 

According  to  Indian  tradition,  the  Potta- 
wattomie  Chief  Chabbona,  or  "Shaub-e-nee," 
as  designated  by  Gurdon  S.  Hubbard,  was 
born  about  the  year  1775  at  a  point  somewhere 
in  the  Kankakee  Valley  on  the  river.  By  some 
it  is  contended  that  his  birthplace  was  in  the 
territory  now  incorporated  within  the  western 
bounds  of  Kankakee  county  and  not  far  from 
the  "Rock  Village"  of  old  Chief  "Shaw-wa-na- 
see,"  in  Rockville.  This  may  or  may  not  be 
the  case.  The  writer  has  industriously  scanned 
the  various  treaties  entered  into  by  the  United 
States  and  the  Nation  of  the  Pottawattomies 
where  "Shaub-e-nee"  appears  as  a  signatory, 


138 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

hoping  thereby  to  uncover  some  data  that 
would  serve  as  a  clue  in  solving  the  mystery  of 
his  birthplace.  Nothing  was  found  in  these 
records,  however,  that  would  throw  any  light 
on  the  subject,  and  the  probabilities  are  that 
the  assumption  of  his  birth  in  Kankakee  county 
is  based  altogether  on  hearsay  evidence  (for 
Shaub-e-nee  lived  much  in  Kankakee  county 
^during  his  long  lifetime  and  was  known  by 
many  of  the  early  settlers),  and  necessary 
allowance  must  be  made  for  all  the  defects  and 
deficiencies  so  characteristic  of  statements 
handed  down  verbally  from  generation  to  gen- 
eration. 

All  accounts  agree  that  Shaub-e-nee  was  a 
magnificent  specimen  of  physical  development, 
standing  something  over  six  feet  in  height,  with 
massive  head,  an  impressive  countenance  and  a 
benign  and  friendly  disposition  that  served  the 
white  settlers  in  the  wilderness  many  and  many 
a  friendly  turn.  In  the  early  30's  he  rode  for 
days  and  nights  among  the  white  settlers,  warn- 
ing them  of  a  contemplated  massacre  of  the 
whites  and  which  later  came  to  pass,  being 
known  as  the  "Indian  Creek  Massacre."  By 
reason  of  "Shaub-e-nee's"  friendly  warning  the 
fatalities  were  very  few.     Shaub-e-nee's  keen 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 139 

perception  and  active  intellect  long  foresaw 
the  absorption  of  the  domain  of  the  red  man 
by  the  white  race,  and  in  the  councils  of  his 
people  he  urged  moderation  and  general  ac- 
quiescence to  the  system  by  which  the  Indian 
fell  back  as  the  white  wave  rolled  on,  as  if 
realizing  the  utter  futility  of  resistance.  By 
the  treaty  of  1835,  Shaub-e-nee  was  granted 
two  sections  of  land  at  Paw-Paw  Grove,  in 
Lee  county,  and  by  later  treaties  small  an- 
nuities of  cash.  When  his  people  agreed  to 
remove  west  of  the  Mississippi  river,  at  the 
time  of  the  exodus  he  went  along  with  them. 
For  many  years,  after  their  removal  to  the  west, 
on  the  approach  of  spring,  large  bands  of  the 
Pottawattomies  of  the  Kankakee  Valley  re- 
turned to  their  old  familiar  haunts  amid  the 
oaks  and  hard  maples,  pitching  their  camps  as 
of  old,  spending  their  time  hunting  and  fishing, 
a  privilege  they  enjoyed  under  the  treaty. 

Mrs.  Mary  Baltazor,  daughter  of  the  pio- 
neer, Dominick  Bray,  born  seventy-seven  years 
ago  at  the  home  in  Bourbonnais  township, 
knew  Shaub-e-nee  well.  He  was  a  frequent 
visitor  at  their  home  in  the  old  log-house  and 
often  sat  down  to  a  meal  with  them.  As  a  child 
she  understood  the  Pottawattomie  tongue  and 


140 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

often  conversed  with  him.  Their  camp  was  not 
far  away,  over  in  the  Cooper  woods,  and  she 
gives  an  amusing  instance  of  how,  on  one  occa- 
sion, when  asked  to  partake  of  a  meal  with  the 
family,  he  sat  himself  down  and,  after  piling 
his  plate  high  with  food,  proceeded  to  shovel  a 
goodly  portion  of  it  into  a  wooden  pail  he  had 
brought  along,  evidently  for  that  purpose, 
which  he  later  carried  back  to  camp,  but 
whether  for  himself  or  his  squaw  she  does  not 
know. 

Mr.  Elias  Powell  tells  us  that  in  the  spring 
and  summer  of  1849,  Shaub-e-nee's  village, 
containing  something  over  one  hundred  war- 
riors and  squaws  and  children,  was  pitched  in 
the  maple  grove  on  the  Hawkins  farm,  across 
the  river  from  their  place.  They  had  been  hunt- 
ing out  on  Grand  Prairie,  away  to  the  south- 
west, where  herds  of  deer  abounded  in  that  day. 
On  the  way  back  the  water  in  the  river  was  very 
high,  but  the  warriors,  undaunted,  urged  their 
ponies  into  the  flood  near  to  where  Wiley 
creek  flows  into  the  river  and  started  across, 
one  after  another.  Chief  Shaub-e-nee  and  his 
daughter,  a  rather  comely  young  woman,  had 
in  charge  a  number  of  ponies  which  were  heav- 
ily laden  with  venison  secured  on  the  hunt,  and 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 141 

the  former  arranged  with  Mr.  Powell  to  carry 
it  across  the  river  for  him  in  his  boat.  The  old 
chief  stood  in  the  boat  and  superintended  the 
loading  of  the  venison,  which  was  a  vile,  un- 
savory mess  that  smelled  to  heaven.  He  stood 
amidship  and  balanced  the  light  craft  from 
time  to  time,  motioning  for  more  and  still  more 
cargo  until  the  sides  of  the  boat  were  scarcely 
three  inches  above  the  water.  Two  loads  were 
thus  safely  ferried  across  the  river  and  de- 
posited on  the  shore  opposite  their  camp,  but 
the  young  boatman  was  all  but  asphyxiated  by 
the  awful  stench  of  meat  days  old  and  in  an 
advanced  state  of  decomposition.  For  this 
service  Mr.  Powell  received  the  munificent  sum 
of  twenty- five  cents  a  load.  The  ponies,  re- 
lieved of  their  burdens,  took  to  the  water  and 
swam  across  to  the  opposite  side  and  made  their 
way  to  camp. 

Mr.  Powell  recalls  that  Shaub-e-nee  was 
towering  in  stature,  and  of  a  mien  and  dignity 
most  impressive.  He  at  that  time  must  have 
been  close  to  seventy-five  years  of  age. 

For  many  years  the  old  chief  and  his  people 
came  back  from  western  Iowa,  and  during  the 
spring  and  summer  until  early  fall  frequented 
the  old  haunts  on  the  Kankakee.     But  their 


142 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

numbers  grew  less  as  time  passed  on,  until 
finally  the  pilgrimages  ceased  altogether.  But 
for  Shaub-e-nee  and  his  squaw,  memory  could 
not  quite  relinquish  the  old-time  traditions  and 
the  call  of  the  land  of  their  birth  stirred  their 
wild  natures  too  deeply  to  go  unheeded,  and 
they  finally  came  back  to  Morris,  111.,  where 
the  citizens,  aided  in  a  small  way  by  the  gov- 
ernment, provided  them  with  a  small  piece  of 
ground  and  a  home.  Here  Shaub-e-nee  died 
on  July  17,  1859,  having  attained  the  age  of 
eighty-four  years.  His  wife,  "Pok-a-no-ka," 
a  woman  of  enormous  proportions  and  so  fleshy 
as  to  be  almost  helpless,  was  drowned  at  Pine 
Bluff,  in  Mazon  creek,  in  1864.  They  lie  side 
by  side  in  a  little  burial  plat  in  the  Morris  ceme- 
tery, and  a  citizen,  Jim  Jones,  caused  a  huge 
boulder  to  be  placed  at  their  graves  which  bears 
their  names. 

The  Exodus  of  the  Pottawattomie  Nation 

The  passing  of  the  Nation  of  the  Pottawat- 
tomies  from  the  lands  so  long  occupied  by  them 
in  the  Valley  of  the  Kankakee  might  properly 
constitute  the  theme  of  an  epic  strong,  colorful, 
vibrant  with  that  appeal  to  human  interest  and 
sympathy  such  as,  in  a  measure,  characterized 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 143 

the  wanderings  of  Ulysses.  It  is  to  be  re- 
gretted that  the  masterful  genius  of  a  Reming- 
ton could  not  have  been  employed  to  preserve 
for  us  in  this  day  the  shadow  of  a  passing  race, 
moving  onward — ever  onward — before  the 
white  man.  His  art  would  have  made  clear 
many  details  concerning  this  primitive  people, 
whose  inheritance  was  the  woods,  the  streams, 
the  plains  and  all  therein  contained,  besides 
depicting  something  of  the  grief  and  helpless- 
ness and  utter  despair  that  encompassed  them 
when  the  dread  hour  struck  and  the  word  was 
given  to  abandon  the  empire  of  their  fathers. 
The  government  in  the  various  treaties  en- 
acted with  the  Pottawattomies  dealt  on  a  basis 
of  broad  liberality  with  them,  as  a  matter  of 
fact,  and  at  no  time  imposed  drastic  conditions. 
The  clause  in  the  treaties  by  which  they  agreed 
to  vacate  the  land,  allowed  them  generally  three 
years,  ere  the  transfer  was  made.  This  three- 
year  interval  was  granted  at  the  request  of  the 
Indians  themselves,  who  urged  that  the  re- 
movals could  thus  be  accomplished  gradually 
and  the  minds  of  the  older  ones  be  made  more 
settled  and  at  ease  over  the  prospect  of  change 
of  habitation.  For  the  Indian  youth  the  re- 
moval to  lands  west  of  the  Mississippi  was  an 


144 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

adventure  that  met  with  the  unqualified  ap- 
proval of  their  youthful  natures.  For  the  older 
warriors  and  chiefs,  however,  there  was  no  such 
happy  outlook.  Home  for  them,  with  its  asso- 
ciations and  traditions,  was  what  it  is  in  this 
day  for  you.  To  many  the  impending  change 
was  a  thing  little  understood,  a  something  de- 
creed by  a  mysterious  higher  power  against 
which  it  were  futile  to  even  protest.  The  Great 
Father  at  Washington  so  willed,  and  his  will 
must  be  obeyed. 

During  the  time  between  1832  and  1850 
various  bands  and  villages  of  the  Pottawat- 
tomies  were  transferred  to  west  of  the  Missis- 
sippi, in  the  region  of  Council  Bluffs.  Noel 
LeVasseur  and  Alexis  Bergeron,  of  Bourbon- 
nais,  and  A.  S.  Vail,  of  Momence,  were  em- 
ployed as  government  agents  in  charge  of  the 
removals,  together  with  Dominick  Bray  and 
others.  Only  fragmentary  accounts  have  come 
down  to  us  in  this  day  touching  upon  the 
exodus  of  this  people,  and  these  accounts  in 
the  main,  unfortunately,  are  most  prosaic  and 
uninteresting,  generally  a  summary  of  dry 
detail  such  as  is  best  expressed  in  figures.  Of 
those  actively  engaged  in  conducting  the 
Indians  to  their  new  home,  "Uncle  Sid"  Vail, 
of  Momence,  apparently,  was  the  only  one 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 145 

whose  sensibilities  were  touched  by  the  tragedy, 
the  sorrow  and  distress  involved  in  this  "break- 
ing of  home  ties."  Many  of  the  Indians  were 
well  known  to  the  white  families  residing  along 
the  river,  and  prior  to  their  departure  they 
called  upon  these  settlers  and  bade  them  good- 
by  with  manifestations  of  sorrow  and  deep 
regret.  Mr.  Vail  was  a  man  to  catch  the  spirit 
and  significance  of  these  unique  processions  of 
the  aborigines,  with  their  primitive  household 
effects,  moving  in  somber,  picturesque  line  over 
the  prairies,  afoot  and  horseback,  with  lodge- 
poles  dragging  at  the  horses'  sides,  the  whole 
forming  a  picture,  etched  on  the  wilderness 
background,  that  for  color  and  detail  surpassed 
the  conjurings  of  the  imagination. 

He  has  told  how,  in  the  year  1843,  a  village 
of  the  Pottawattomies  away  to  the  east  of 
Momence  started  on  the  long  pilgrimage  to  the 
west  under  the  guidance  of  Alexis  Bergeron. 
It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  of  a  summer's  day 
when  the  savage  cavalcade  reached  the  Kanka- 
kee river  and  at  a  point  just  at  the  south  ap- 
proach to  the  bridge  that  now  spans  the  river 
at  Momence,  proceeded  to  cross.  Those  on 
horseback  started  into  the  river  first,  followed 
by  braves  and  squaws  on  foot.    Many  of  the 


146 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

ponies  had  the  lodge-poles  fastened  to  their 
sides,  the  ends  of  which  dragged  on  the  ground, 
and  platforms  were  constructed  on  these, 
whereon  the  younger  children  rode.  They 
angled  across  the  south  channel  in  the  direction 
of  the  northwest  and  up  over  the  spit  of  land 
of  the  island  and  then  across  the  north  channel, 
and  as  they  did  so  the  moving  throng  was  sud- 
denly enveloped  in  a  purple  mist  that  seemed 
to  rise  from  the  surface  of  the  water,  the  effects 
of  sun  and  cloud  and  refracted  light,  until  the 
motley  procession  seemed  as  though  suddenly 
transformed  into  some  strange,  colorful  phan- 
tasy of  moving  forms  and  equipage,  a  mirage 
that  seemed  likely  to  dissolve  before  one's  eyes 
and  vanish  in  thin  air.  Last  in  this  procession 
came  an  aged  blind  squaw.  With  her  left  hand 
she  clutched  the  blanket  of  an  Indian  girl 
who  strode  before  her.  Her  head  was  thrown 
back  in  the  characteristic  attitude  of  the  blind, 
as  though  her  sightless  orbs  beheld  something 
of  the  transient  beauty  that  lay  on  river  and 
woods.  Her  hair,  long  and  unkempt,  was 
blown  hither  and  yon  by  the  winds,  and  her 
right  arm  was  extended  as  though  fearful  of 
some  unseen  object  that  barred  the  way.  She 
who    led    the    way    and    whose    blanket    she 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 147 

clutched  paid  not  the  slightest  heed,  except  to 
show  impatience  when  her  tottering  steps  fal- 
tered on  the  declivity  that  led  down  to  the 
water's  edge.  Into  the  water  they  plunged 
unhesitatingly,  following  the  host  that  moved 
ahead,  and  she  who  preceded  her  spoke  no  word 
of  cheer,  or  encouragement,  nor  slackened  her 
pace,  nor  even  once  looked  back.  It  is  the 
Indian  creed  that  misfortune  bears  the  burden 
of  its  misery  alone.  The  purple  dusk  fell  upon 
her  streaming  hair,  and  the  tattered  blanket 
that  floated  on  the  surface  of  the  stream  about 
her  was,  for  the  moment,  transformed  into  a 
vestment  of  royal  hue.  But  there  was  abject 
terror  and  helplessness  depicted  in  the  uplifted 
bronze  face  of  her  who  toiled  alone,  waist  deep 
in  the  stream,  a  purple  wraith  in  the  wake  of 
the  savage  pageant.  This  incident  of  the  pass- 
ing of  the  Pottawattomies  was  registered  in  the 
memory  of  Mr.  Vail  with  all  the  sharpness  of 
detail  of  a  snapshot,  and  during  the  long  inter- 
val in  which  he  lived  and  on  those  numerous 
occasions  during  which  he  entertained  those 
about  him  with  stories  of  the  primeval  wilder- 
ness and  its  people,  it  was  often  alluded  to. 


148 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

The  Old  Hubbard  Trail 

There  is  something  interesting  ahout  an  old 
trail,  something  fascinating  when  one  recalls 
that  there  was  a  first  time  when  the  primeval 
turf  was  touched  by  the  foot  of  man,  to  be  fol- 
lowed by  a  second  and  a  third  until,  in  the 
course  of  the  years,  the  restless  feet  of  those 
who  traversed  the  wilderness  wore  down  the 
tough  prairie  sod  until  the  way  became  a  trail, 
later  to  be  dignified  by  a  name  such  as  was  the 
"Hubbard  Trail."  Over  one  hundred  years 
ago  the  "Hubbard  Trail"  operated  between 
Danville  and  Chicago,  and  that  branch  of  the 
trail  which  extended  from  old  Middleport,  in 
Iroquois  county,  up  through  the  present  site  of 
the  City  of  Kankakee  and  on  out  through 
iBourbonnais  Grove  traversed,  without  doubt, 
certain  well-worn  Indian  trails  that  lay  within 
the  general  course  and  which,  from  time  im- 
memorial, had  been  used  as  such  by  the  Indian, 
his  father  and  his  father's  father. 

It  is  interesting  to  note,  in  this  connection, 
that  the  very  first  trails  the  country  over  were 
not  those  which,  generally,  we  ascribe  to  the 
Indian  and  the  white  man.  The  very  first  en- 
gineers to  operate  in  the  vast  wilderness  of  the 
middle  west  were  the  buffalo,  elk  and  deer. 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 149 

Moved  by  that  strange,  unfailing  instinct  so 
characteristic  of  the  wild  animal,  these  trails 
were  projected  along  ways  of  easy  grade  and 
comparative  safety,  leading  to  feeding  grounds 
or  to  water,  and  where  the  trail  crossed  a  stream, 
there,  also,  in  later  years,  came  the  Indian,  and 
after  him  the  white  man,  who  profited  thus  by 
the  unerring  instinct  of  nature's  first  engineers, 
who  picked  invariably  a  safe  and  convenient 
ford.  During  a  later  day,  in  extending  our 
transcontinental  lines  west  from  the  Missis- 
sippi river,  the  levels  of  the  engineers  were  run 
along  the  old  buffalo  trails  for  many,  many 
miles. 

The  rivers  were  the  first  highways  of  com- 
merce and  travel,  and  away  back  in  the  shad- 
owy days  of  1679,  LaSalle,  Tonty  and  Father 
Hennepin,  as  well  as  other  parties  of  the  early 
French,  were  borne  on  the  bosom  of  the  Kanka- 
kee to  the  Illinois  and  thence  to  the  Mississippi. 
In  the  first  days  of  1814,  when  the  American 
Fur  Company  came  into  the  country  of  the 
Illinois,  their  heavy  batteaux  were  propelled 
along  the  Kankakee  and  the  Iroquois  rivers 
under  the  lusty  strokes  of  the  French- Canadian 
voyageur,  while  they  kept  time  with  their  oars 
to  the  old-time  song  of  "En  Roulant,   Ma 


150 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

Boule,  En  Roulant,"  punctuated  at  times  by 
the  voice  of  the  Bourgeois,  or  leader,  who  sang 
out,  "Whoopla!  a  terre,  a  terre — pour  la  pipe !" 
This  cryptic  utterance  on  the  part  of  the  leader 
was  always  met  with  a  storm  of  approval  on 
the  part  of  the  men,  for  it  meant  the  landing  of 
the  boat  and  a  rest  and  a  pipeful  of  tobacco. 
The  day's  journey  was  reckoned  not  so  much 
by  miles  as  by  "pipes,"  the  interval  between 
pipes  being  generally  five  or  six  miles. 

In  such  a  manner  and  in  the  company  of 
these  old-time  voyageurs,  came  Gurdon  S. 
Hubbard,  a  youth  of  sixteen  years,  into  the 
country  of  the  Illinois  in  the  year  1818.  Five 
years  later,  in  1823,  he  was  placed  by  the  com- 
pany in  charge  of  the  Illinois  posts,  coming  by 
way  of  the  St.  Joseph- Kankakee  portage  to 
the  company  post  at  Middleport,  on  the  Iro- 
quois, in  Iroquois  county.  As  a  means  of  ex- 
pediting the  delivery  of  furs  at  headquarters  in 
Chicago,  Hubbard  instituted  the  pack-horse, 
thus  avoiding  the  hardships  of  water  travel  and 
the  nerve-racking  experiences  consequent  on 
negotiating  the  Chicago-DesPlaines  portage 
during  its  seasons  of  high  or  low  water,  which 
made  frequent  unloading  and  carrying  of  the 
cargoes  necessary.    By  this  more  direct  method 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 151 

of  the  pack-horse  and  the  "Trail,"  much  time 
and  a  vast  amount  of  labor  were  saved. 

The  "Hubbard  Trail,"  or  "Trace,"  as  it  is 
sometimes  indicated  on  the  maps,  was  inaugu- 
rated in  the  year  1824.  It  ran  from  Danville 
to  Chicago,  crossing  the  Kankakee  river  one 
mile  east  of  the  town  of  Momence  and  passing 
through  the  towns  of  Grant,  Crete,  Bloom  and 
Chicago  Heights.  Concerning  it,  Hubbard 
himself  has  this  to  say:  "The  legislature  of 
Illinois  caused  a  road  to  be  laid  out  in  1834  and 
designated  by  mile-stones  from  Vincennes  to 
Chicago.  The  commissioners  who  located  it 
and  planted  the  stones  tried  hard,  so  they  in- 
formed me,  to  get  a  straighter  line  and  better 
ground  than  the  'Hubbard  Trail,'  but  were 
forced  to  follow,  with  slight  deviation,  my  old 
track,  which  was  on  the  dividing  ridge  between 
the  waters  flowing  into  the  Wabash  on  the  east 
and  the  Illinois  on  the  west.  Though  mile- 
stones were  planted,  yet  'Hubbard's  Trail' 
kept  the  principal  travel  until  both  it  and  the 
state  road  were  abandoned  and  fenced  in,  new 
county  roads  being  laid  out  to  take  their  place." 

For  many  years  thereafter  this  "Trace"  be- 
came the  highway  of  the  prairie  schooner  of  the 
settler,  the  ox-cart  of  the  habitant,  for  the  man 


152 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

driving  hogs  or  cattle  to  the  backwoods  market 
at  Chicago,  the  hardy  half-breed  trapper  with 
his  pack  of  furs,  the  Indian  party  with  its 
throng  of  wiry  ponies  with  lodge-poles  drag- 
ging travail- fashion  on  the  ground,  with  its  en- 
tourage of  noisy  squaws,  children  and  dogs,  a 
motley  procession  of  unique  wilderness  types 
the  like  of  which  will  never  be  witnessed  again. 
Down  in  Iroquois  county,  somewhere  east  of 
Sugar  Island,  an  old,  deeply- worn  Indian  trail 
branched  from  the  "Hubbard  Trail"  and  wan- 
dered aimlessly  to  the  northwest,  crossing  the 
Kankakee  river  at  Aroma  Park  and  continuing 
on  to  Kankakee,  Bourbonnais  and  Twelve- 
Mile  Grove.  Here  also  the  Indian  ponies  were 
to  be  met  with,  piled  high  with  venison  that 
came  from  somewhere  out  of  the  vast  reaches 
of  plains  and  timber  to  the  east  where  the 
Indian  hunters  were.  Unaccompanied  they 
made  their  way  home,  whether  home  was  at 
"Wais-us-kuck's"  village  at  Aroma  Park,  at 
"She-mor-gar's,"  at  Soldier  Creek,  "Me-she- 
ke-te-no's"  in  the  Cooper  woods,  or  at  old 
"Shaw-wa-na-see's,"  down  on  Rock  Creek. 
The  Indian  pony  had  an  unerring  sense  of  di- 
rection when  it  came  to  locating  home  and 
rarely  ever  went  amiss.    And  these  ponies  were 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 153 

speeded  on  the  way  by  Indians  located  on  the 
trail,  who  gave  them  a  cut  with  a  rawhide  whip 
as  they  passed  along,  more  particularly  such 
ponies  as  loitered. 

This  Indian  trail,  which  passed  through 
Kankakee,  swung  around  the  eastern  side  of 
Mt.  Langham  and  crossed  the  Kankakee  river 
at  Schobar's  ford,  at  Aroma  Park,  the  ford 
starting  at  a  point  a  little  ways  east  of  the  rail- 
road bridge,  angling  under  the  south  span  and 
coming  out  on  the  north  side  a  hundred  feet  or 
more  to  the  west  of  the  bridge.  The  trail  fol- 
lowed along  the  ridge  of  timber,  which,  in  that 
day,  extended  in  almost  an  unbroken  line  from 
Aroma  Park  up  to  the  present  site  of  Kanka- 
kee. At  a  point  west  of  the  old  quarries,  on 
Fifth  avenue,  it  turned  sharply  to  the  north, 
continuing  on  to  Bourbonnais  Grove  and 
thence  to  Twelve-Mile  Grove. 

Time  and  mother  nature  work  ceaselessly 
to  eradicate  the  scars  man  has  made,  and  so 
effectively  has  the  work  been  done  that,  of  the 
old  Indian  trail  in  Kankakee,  scarcely  a  trace 
remains  today.  It  is  only  in  the  memory  of 
some  of  the  older  inhabitants  of  the  city  that 
the  trail  lives  at  all,  and  with  many  of  them  the 
gossamer  web  of  oblivion  has  so  enshrouded  the 


154 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

recollection  that  they  are  not  quite  sure  as  to 
its  course.  A  few  years  ago  the  late  H.  O. 
VanMeter,  born  near  Kankakee  in  her  pioneer 
days  and  rated  as  an  authority  in  matters  con- 
cerning the  city's  early  history,  took  us  over  the 
old  trail  and  indicated  its  course  by  landmarks 
that  stand  today.  The  trail  touched  the 
grounds  of  the  T.  P.  Bonfield  residence,  in  the 
east  part  of  town,  crossing  various  intervening 
properties  up  to  the  H.  E.  Taylor  home,  on 
Harrison  avenue.  It  angled  across  the  back 
of  this  lot,  through  the  lot  of  the  Masonic  Tem- 
ple and  the  southwest  corner  of  the  Y.  M.  C.  A. 
property,  and  barely  missed  the  corner  of  the 
court  house  square  as  it  emerged  into  Court 
street.  With  a  general  trend  of  west  by  north- 
west the  trail  crossed  the  street,  cutting  through 
the  properties  of  the  county  jail,  the  Baptist 
church,  the  Presbyterian  church,  the  south  side 
of  the  Spencer  lots,  and  continuing  almost  due 
west  along  the  backs  of  the  buildings  between 
Dearborn  and  Schuyler  avenues,  veered 
slightly  to  the  northwest  and  passed  in  close 
proximity  to  the  northeast  corner  of  the  ancient 
lime-kilns  of  the  old  Kankakee  Stone  &  Lime 
Company,  thence  across  the  quarry  area,  turn- 
ing into  Fifth  avenue.    Only  a  few  feet  east  of 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 155 

the  old  lime-kilns  there  is  a  slight  declivity, 
worn  to  a  depth  of  six  or  eight  inches  and 
about  the  width  of  a  wagon  track,  to  which  Mr. 
VanMeter  called  our  attention,  with  the  state- 
ment that  this  was  the  only  remaining  portion 
of  the  ancient  Indian  trail  (at  times  erro- 
neously called  "Hubbard  Trail")  existing  in 
Kankakee  today. 

At  Crete,  111.,  public  spirited  citizens  have 
enclosed,  with  a  suitable  fence,  a  portion  of  the 
old  Chicago- Vincennes  road,  also  called  "Hub- 
bard Trail,"  together  with  one  of  its  ancient 
mile-stones,  preserving  for  the  generation  of 
this  day  the  interesting  remnant  of  pioneer 
days  long  gone.  The  public  spirited  citizens  of 
Kankakee  would  do  well  to  perpetuate  the 
memory  of  early  days  by  erecting  a  memorial 
at  the  northeast  corner  of  the  court  house 
square  where  the  aboriginal  traffic  of  old  days, 
long  dead  and  forgotten,  flowed  by  before  the 
Kankakee  of  today  was  even  dreamed  of. 

The  evolution  of  the  "Hubbard  Trace"  pre- 
sents some  interesting  phases  for  the  thought- 
ful observer  of  today.  First  laid  out  as  an  aid 
to  the  primitive  fur  traders  of  a  century  ago, 
the  legislature  of  Illinois  responded,  in  a  later 
day,  to  an  urgent  call  of  the  public  for  a  prac- 


156 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

tical  highway  from  Chicago  to  the  southeast 
by  adopting,  with  but  slight  variations,  the 
"Hubbard  Trace,"  which  was  later  called  the 
Chicago- Vincennes  road  and  marked  with  mile- 
stones. In  this  twentieth  century  we  have  the 
"Dixie  Highway,"  a  twenty-foot  roadway  of 
cement  built  at  the  cost  of  millions,  practically 
paralleling  this  old-time  route  of  the  trader, 
trapper,  Indian  and  coureur  de  bois,  and 
where,  in  a  later  day,  the  "prairie  schooner," 
the  "Conestoga"  wagon  and  the  ox-cart  of  the 
settler  of  the  prairies  creaked  by  in  lonely  pro- 
cession. As  we  pause  to  envision  the  mighty  de- 
velopments of  a  century  it  is  to  picture,  though 
dimly,  perhaps,  the  surprise  and  consternation 
of  the  "shades"  of  these  old-time,  slow-moving 
caravansaries  of  primitive  days,  on  beholding 
the  speed  of  the  twentieth  century.  And  we 
leave  it  to  you  to  say  which  would  impress 
them  most — -the  stately  movement  of  the  mod- 
ern passenger  train,  the  bird-like  flight  of  the 
aeroplane  overhead,  or  the  youth  of  a  jazz- 
crazed  age,  who  crowd  the  "Dixie  Highway" 
on  a  holiday  with  high-powered  machines  that 
outrival  the  locomotive  for  speed. 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 157 

Kankakee  County's  First  Fourth  of  July 
Celebration 

July  Fourth,  1840,  was  a  memorable  day 
over  in  the  east  end  of  the  territory  now  em- 
braced in  Kankakee  County  for,  on  that  day, 
was  held  the  first  regularly  constituted  Fourth 
of  July  celebration  ever  attempted  in  Kankakee 
County.  The  affair  was  held  on  the  island  in  the 
Kankakee  river  at  Momence,  since  known  as 
"Island  Park,"  and  its  sponsors  were  none 
other  than  A.  S.  Vail  and  Judge  Orson  Beebe, 
Momence's  first  citizens.  This  celebration 
was  not  of  the  flamboyant,  red-fire,  noisy  type 
which  later  characterized  gatherings  of  this 
kind.  In  fact,  it  was  quite  the  reverse.  In 
that  day  there  were  no  newspapers,  no  air- 
planes, no  telegraph  or  telephones,  no  noth- 
ing, excepting  the  broad,  illimitable  prairie, 
like  a  sea  of  waving  green,  with  its  occasional 
trail,  and  in  whose  all-enveloping  vastness  the 
settler  seemed  hopelessly,  irretrievably  lost. 

This  enterprising  committee  of  early  citi- 
zens, undaunted  by  the  difficulties  attending 
matters  of  publicity,  besides  writing  out  no- 
tices calling  attention  to  the  proposed  celebra- 
tion and  posting  them  along  the  old  Chicago- 
Vincennes  Road,  as  well  as  other  trails  some- 


158 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

times  frequented  by  the  lonely  traveler,  made 
use  of  the  settler,  thrown  in  their  way  now  and 
then  by  chance,  to  spread  the  news,  having  first 
impressed  him  with  the  great  importance  of 
attending  the  celebration  himself.  One  thing 
that  committee  had  in  abundance,  and  that  was 
faith — faith  in  the  successful  outcome  of  the 
undertaking.  The  brush  and  undergrowth  on 
the  island  were  cut  and  the  place  cleaned  up 
and  gotten  in  readiness.  There  was  no  speak- 
er's stand  provided  for  the  very  good  reason 
that  there  was  to  be  no  speaker.  There  was 
no  brass  band  engaged  for  the  reason  that,  in 
the  whole  state  of  Illinois,  there  was  no  such 
thing,  not  even  a  "sheepskin  band."  If  there 
had  been  a  band  available  the  committee  could 
not  have  made  use  of  it,  for  there  was  not 
enough  of  despised  "wild-cat"  money  in  the 
community  to  pay  for  it.  But  with  the  dawn- 
ing of  the  Fourth  came  the  crowd  from  far 
and  near  until,  by  ten  o'clock,  there  was  a  total 
of  fifty-one  souls  in  attendance.  FIFTY- 
ONE  !  Think  of  it !  It  was  some  crowd  for 
that  day,  though,  brethren.  They  came  from 
Crete  and  Beecher  and  over  the  line  in  Indiana 
and  down  on  the  Iroquois  and  out  of  the  misty 
depths  of  Grand    Prairie,  American    citizens 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 159 

who  came  for  miles  in  slow-moving  ox-carts  to 
celebrate  the  Nation's  birthday  and  get  ac- 
quainted, one  with  the  other,  and  enjoy,  if  only 
for  a  brief  season,  the  opportunity  thus  af- 
forded for  sociability.  There  is  nothing  in  the 
traditionary  lore  that  has  come  down  to  us  in 
this  day,  regarding  the  celebration  of  eighty 
years  ago,  that  would  indicate  that  the  occasion 
was  graced  by  a  solitary  flag,  or  that  the  Dec- 
laration of  Independence  was  read.  But  there 
was  a  grand,  old-fashioned  dinner.  Table  cloths 
were  placed  end  to  end  on  the  ground  and  the 
contents  of  capacious  baskets  were  deposited 
thereon,  and  the  entire  company  of  fifty-one, 
instead  of  separating  into  little  groups,  came 
together  at  one  table  like  one  huge  family. 

The  celebration  was  a  tremendous  success. 
It  was  wonderful  to  get  somewhere  out  of  the 
prairie  home  and  away  from  its  monotonous 
grind,  to  enjoy  a  moment  of  relaxation  and 
gossip  with  someone  other  than  a  member  of 
your  own  family.  There  were  friendships 
formed  that  day  that  have  lasted  through  all 
the  intervening  years,  and  so  important  did 
this  event  become  in  the  estimation  of  the  set- 
tlers that,  as  time  passed  on,  important  events 
along  life's  highway  were  invariably  reckoned 
as  so  long  before    or   after    that   memorable 


160 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

Fourth  at  Island  Park.  The  citizens  of  Mo- 
mence,  with  rare  good  sense  and  judgment, 
have  purchased  Island  Park  for  their  heirs  and 
assigns  to  have  and  hold  forever.  They  should 
go  a  step  farther  and  erect  a  monument  in 
recognition  of  that  old-time  celebration,  which 
was  Kankakee  county's  first;  and,  before  it  is 
too  late,  the  names  of  those  old-time  celebrants 
should  be  gathered,  so  far  as  is  now  possible, 
and  these  should  be  cut  into  imperishable  stone. 

A  Death  and  Burial  at  "Leggtown" 

Somewhere  within  the  limited  area  of  the 
little  plat  known  as  the  "Leggtown"  cemetery, 
situated  close  in  by  the  settlement  of  that  name 
in  the  town  of  Aroma,  something  over  sixty 
years  ago,  was  deposited  the  remains  of  one 
Mrs.  Blodgett,  an  overland  traveler,  who  was 
taken  ill  of  smallpox  and  died  shortly  after 
reaching  the  settlement. 

The  circumstances  attending  this  death  and 
burial  present  some  phases  unusual  and  out  of 
the  ordinary  even  for  those  primitive  days.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Blodgett  had  been  permitted  to  oc- 
cupy an  old  log  cabin  belonging  to  Lorenzo 
Legg,  for  she  was  ill,  and  at  that  time  the 
deadly  nature  of  the  disease  with  which  she  was 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 161 

afflicted  was  not  suspected.  Great  was  the 
consternation  of  the  little  community  when,  at 
last,  the  fact  became  known  that  they  harbored 
in  their  midst  a  smallpox  patient,  and,  several 
days  later,  when  she  died,  fear  gave  way  to 
panic  at  thought  of  the  possible  spread  of  the 
disease  in  the  neighborhood.  So  wrought  up 
and  obsessed  with  fear  at  the  outlook  were  the 
members  of  the  community,  that  the  ordinary 
courtesies  and  attentions  so  freely  accorded  to 
strangers  in  distress  by  the  settlers  of  that  day, 
were  denied,  save  that  food  was  prepared  and 
such  articles  as  Mr.  Blodgett  needed  for  her, 
such  as  the  community  had,  were  taken  and 
deposited  in  a  certain  place  where  he  could  get 
them.  No  one  seems  to  recall  whether  Mrs. 
Blodgett  was  given  medical  attention  at  that 
time  or  not,  and  certainly  the  only  one  to  min- 
ister to  her  wants  was  the  grief-stricken  hus- 
band, who  was  powerless  when  it  came  to  re- 
lieving her  distress.  This  case  was  of  a  most 
virulent  type  and,  when  death  finally  inter- 
vened, the  terror-stricken  husband  appealed  to 
the  neighbors  for  assistance  in  disposing  of  her 
remains.  No  one  dared  go  near.  Even  the 
husband,  aghast  at  the  terrible  ravages  of  the 


162 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

dread  malady,  could  not  bring  himself  to  per- 
form the  last  sad  offices  for  the  dead. 

William  Swan  and  Lorenzo  Legg  made  a 
coffin  of  black  walnut  boards,  of  which  the  set- 
tlement had  a  plentiful  supply,  sawn  from  the 
logs  cut  on  the  place,  and  while  thus  engaged, 
it  came  to  them  that  there  was  one,  John  Shar- 
key, living  near  by,  who  was  immune  from 
smallpox  by  reason  of  having  had  it  years  ago, 
and  that  possibly  he  might  be  prevailed  upon  to 
help  in  the  present  emergency.  John  Sharkey 
is  a  French- Canadian  who,  on  his  arrival  in  the 
Kankakee  Valley  in  the  year  1848,  answered 
to  the  name  of  Bateese  Chartier.  He  worked 
in  various  capacities  for  the  Illinois  Central, 
which  was  then  building  its  line  into  Kankakee, 
and,  among  other  things,  helped  lay  the  stone 
in  the  old  Court  Street  viaduct.  He  lived  with 
John  Abair,  who  boarded  a  number  of  the  men 
employed  on  the  Illinois  Central  works,  operat- 
ing for  that  purpose  two  log  cabins  that  stood 
on  the  court  house  square,  in  the  year  1851. 
Here  boarded  Joe  Sheff  and  John  Sego,  stone 
cutters,  who  got  out  the  stone  for  the  first 
bridge  across  the  Kankakee.  In  the  early  six- 
ties John  Sharkey  lived  in  the  "Leggtown  Set- 
tlement," where  he  farmed  for  a  while,  and 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 163 

later  went  to  Momence,  where  he  now  resides, 
hale  and  hearty  at  the  age  of  eighty-eight 
years.  The  persistency  with  which  people  in- 
sisted upon  calling  him  Sharkey  instead  of 
Char-te-ay,  his  right  name,  led  him  to  finally 
abandon  it  for  the  former. 

Mr.  Sharkey  readily  consented  to  care  for 
the  body  of  Mrs.  Blodgett  when  appealed  to 
by  Mr.  Swan  and,  in  the  deepening  twilight 
of  an  April  night,  repaired  to  the  cabin.  The 
coffin  had  been  left  at  a  place  fifty  or  seventy- 
five  feet  from  the  house,  and  Mr.  Sharkey  was 
obliged  to  drag  it  all  the  way  alone.  It  was 
heavy  and  difficult  to  handle.  In  the  coffin 
had  been  placed  clothing  suitable  to  give  the 
body  a  respectable  burial  but,  by  the  dim,  un- 
certain light  of  the  solitary  tallow  candle,  the 
body  presented  such  an  awful  aspect  that  even 
the  stout  heart  of  John  Sharkey  recoiled.  The 
clothes  were  thrown  on  the  floor,  the  coffin 
placed  by  the  bedside,  and  the  winding  sheet 
that  enveloped  the  body  was  the  one  on  which 
she  died.  The  coffin  was  barely  large  enough 
and  the  exigencies  of  the  situation  required 
that  he  put  his  whole  weight  on  the  lid  when 
the  screws  that  held  it  were  run  down.  In  lieu 
of  a  screw- driver,  he  used  the  cutting-edge  of 


164 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

an  axe  which  he  found  at  a  woodpile.  He 
dragged  the  coffin  and  its  burden  from  the 
house  and,  with  much  difficulty,  loaded  it  into 
Blodgett's  wagon.  Using  Blodgett's  team  he 
drove  through  the  woods  to  the  little  cemetery, 
known  for  many  years  as  the  Leggtown  ceme- 
tery, and  here  he  found  a  grave  had  been  pre- 
pared to  receive  the  remains.  Lowering  the 
body  into  the  grave  was  a  task  that  taxed  the. 
full  resources  of  Mr.  Sharkey,  for  it  must  be 
remembered  that  he  worked  alone.  By  means 
of  the  heavy  leather  driving  lines  taken  from 
the  harness,  which  he  tied  about  each  end  of  the 
coffin  and  then  swung  from  rails  laid  across  the 
grave,  he  alternately  lowered  the  ends  of  the 
coffin  until,  at  last,  it  was  safely  deposited  in 
the  bottom  of  the  grave. 

Thus  was  Mrs.  Blodgett  laid  away  in  her 
last  resting  place,  among  strangers,  by  a  stran- 
ger and  in  a  strange  land,  with  neither  song, 
nor  prayer  nor  word  of  hope  expressed  for  a 
soul  gone  out  into  the  realm  of  the  hereafter. 
Only  the  stars  looked  on  as  John  Sharkey  shov- 
eled in  the  yawning  pit,  and  the  only  sound, 
aside  from  the  soft  pat  of  the  falling  earth, 
was  the  lonely  plaint  of  the  whippoorwill  in 
the  woods.   It  was  past  eleven  o'clock  when  he 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 165 

finished  his  labors,  and,  in  the  more  than  sixty 
years  that  have  intervened  since  that  night,  he 
tells  us,  he  has  never  set  foot  within  the  pre- 
cincts of  Leggtown  cemetery.  Blodgett  was 
given  money  by  the  settlers  wherewith  to  re- 
turn to  Indiana,  and  some  months  later,  hav- 
ing in  the  meantime  been  sick  with  smallpox, 
he  returned  to  Leggtown,  secured  his  team  and 
wagon  and  continued  on  west. 

More  than  a  half  century  later  Mr.  Blod- 
gett appeared  in  the  little  settlement  in  Aroma, 
coming  here  from  the  Pacific  coast.  He  had 
married  again  and  was  prosperous.  This  time 
he  sought  to  locate  the  grave  of  his  former 
helpmeet,  but  of  the  few  who  recalled  the  cir- 
cumstance of  her  death  and  burial,  there  were 
none  who  could  locate,  with  any  certainty,  the 
spot  where  she  was  buried.  Even  John  Shar- 
key, who  put  her  away,  confesses  that  he  would 
not  know  where  to  look  for  the  grave.  She  is 
lost  to  mortal  ken  in  the  little  burying  ground 
which  is  not  much  greater  in  size  than  the  ordi- 
nary city  lot.  There  is  a  place,  though,  over 
in  the  extreme  northwest  corner,  where  the  bit- 
tersweet trails  thickly  in  a  tangled  mass  over 
a  depression  in  the  ground  which  may  have 
been  a  grave — the  grave.  But,  what  matter? 
Memorial  stones  fade  and  crumble  and  fail  of 


166 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

their  duty.     It  is  only  the  heart  that  remem- 
bers. 

Kankakee's  First  Sunday  School  Excursion 

Kankakee,  in  her  growth  and  development 
since  the  days  of  swaddling  clothes,  so  to  speak, 
has  been  the  objective  of  many  thousands  of 
excursionists  from  far  and  near,  brought  in  by 
the  Illinois  Central,  and  in  these  later  days, 
by  thousands  of  automobiles,  for  a  day's  out- 
ing in  the  woods  on  the  banks  of  the  beautiful 
Kankakee  river.  In  fact,  the  excursionist  of 
this  day  is  so  frequently  met  with  that  he  ex- 
cites not  even  a  passing  interest.  But  in  the 
fall  of  1853,  my  brethren,  shortly  after  the  Illi- 
nois Central  had  completed  its  line  this  far,  an 
excursionist  was  accorded  something  more  than 
the  "once  over"  by  the  native  and  transient 
population.  Our  neighboring  city  of  Mo- 
mence  which,  in  its  long  experience,  has  en- 
joyed the  distinction  of  having  been  first  in 
many  good  works,  may  properly  claim,  we 
think,  the  honor  of  the  first  real  church  excur- 
sion by  rail  to  the  City  of  Kankakee.  Mrs. 
Kendall,  among  other  delightful  reminiscences, 
has  told  us  that  in  the  month  of  August,  1853, 
following  the  completion  of  the  Illinois  Cen- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 167 

tral  railroad  to  Kankakee  in  July,  the  member- 
ship of  the  Baptist  church  and  Sunday  school 
of  Momence  decided  to  visit  Kankakee  and 
have  a  ride  on  the  new  railroad.  Elder  Storrs 
was  the  one  chiefly  interested  in  the  project, 
and  the  announcement  of  the  proposed  excur- 
sion caused  a  great  flutter  of  excitement  in  the 
little  community.  On  the  day  set  for  it  there 
was  a  great  outpouring  of  the  young,  the  mid- 
dle-aged and  the  old,  for  whom  the  new  rail- 
road and  a  ride  on  the  steam  cars  offered  novel- 
ties most  alluring.  The  first  leg  of  the  jour- 
ney to  Kankakee,  that  is,  from  Momence  to 
Manteno,  was  accomplished  by  means  of  such 
conveyances  as  the  limited  facilities  of  pioneer 
days  afforded.  Wagons  figured  principally 
in  this  unique  procession,  several  of  which  had 
been  provided  with  hay-racks  whereon  the 
younger  children  were  seated.  It  was  a  happy 
party  that  set  out  from  Momence  that  morn- 
ing in  August  following  the  prairie  trail  across 
country  to  Manteno  to  the  railroad.  Expec- 
tation ran  high  and  there  were  thrills  galore  at 
thought  of  beholding  that  great,  hissing,  steam- 
ing thing,  the  locomotive,  which  was  to  prove 
such  a  potent  factor  in  subduing  the  wilder- 
ness. 


168 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

On  their  arrival  at  Manteno  and  after  a  wait 
of  an  hour  or  so,  the  excursion  train  pulled  in. 
There  wasn't  a  coach  in  the  train,  in  fact,  all 
it  consisted  of  was  three  or  four  flat  cars  pro- 
vided with  temporary  seats,  pulled  by  a  di- 
minutive, wood-burning  engine.  The  party 
were  installed  thereon  and  the  men  took  it  upon 
themselves  to  look  out  for  the  younger  mem- 
bers and  see  to  it  that  none  fell  off  while  the 
train  covered  the  distance  between  Manteno 
and  Kankakee  at  the  dizzy  speed  of  fifteen 
miles  an  hour.  If  you  are  able  to  recall  how 
you  felt  when  you  saw  for  the  first  time  the 
flight  of  the  aeroplane,  then  you  may  judge 
something  of  the  feelings  of  this  roystering 
party  of  excursionists.  The  fireman,  evident- 
ly moved  by  the  conviction  that  this  was  an 
epoch-making  event,  of  which  history  might 
at  some  time  take  note,  when  not  engaged  in 
stoking  the  engine  rang  the  bell  and  made  the 
whistle  scream  in  a  most  terrifying  way.  If 
the  occasion  did  not  become  memorable  sooner 
it  was  no  fault  of  the  fireman.  His  efforts 
quite  over-awed  and  subdued  the  little  com- 
pany, the  feminine  members  of  which,  could  not 
restrain  their  tendency  to  jump  every  time  the 
whistle  squawked.    And,  in  the  interim  when 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 169 

the  whistle  happened  to  be  silent,  then  the  safe- 
ty valve,  which  relieved  the  dangerous  tension, 
made  acute  in  this  instance  by  the  enthusiastic 
efforts  of  the  fireman,  popped  off  with  a  great 
noise,  and  for  a  moment  the  party  were  en- 
veloped in  filmy  clouds  of  steam,  and  during 
the  interval,  which  seemed  much  longer  than  a 
moment,  they  were  quite  sure  the  thing  had 
blown  up  and  was  headed  for  "Ballyhack"  (if 
the  casual  reader  may  happen  to  know  where 
Ballyhack  is). 

Of  course,  there  was  no  such  thing  as  a  re- 
ception committee  waiting  to  receive  the  ex- 
cursionists on  their  arrival  at  "Kankakee  De- 
pot," for  this  all  happened  long  before  the 
Kankakee  of  today  was  anything  more  than  a 
spot  on  the  face  of  the  universe  with  a  strip  of 
railroad  track  and  shacks  for  the  men  em- 
ployed on  the  work.  The  men  employed  by  the 
Illinois  Central,  at  sight  of  such  an  unusual 
cargo,  doubtless  crossed  themselves  and  stood 
at  salute,  the  while  they  invoked  the  protection 
and  kindly  intervention  of  the  Saints.  Sur- 
prises on  that  day  were  mutual.  The  party 
ate  their  lunch  in  the  shade  of  the  nearby  for- 
est and,  after  several  hours  spent  in  viewing 
the  work  on  the  road  and  the  uncompleted 


170 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

bridge,  re-embarked  for  the  return  trip  to 
Manteno.  A  good  deal  of  anguish  of  mind 
was  caused  for  certain  of  the  party  who  could 
not  figure  out  satisfactorily  how  the  "goll- 
dummed"  train  was  going  to  be  turned  around. 
But,  out  near  where  the  fair  grounds  are  to- 
day located,  the  train  backed  onto  a  "Y"  and 
before  anyone  realized  what  was  up,  the  train 
was  turned  around  and  headed  for  Manteno. 
That  turning  on  the  "Y"  was  one  of  the  im- 
pressive feats  of  the  day.  Altogether  it  was  a 
wonderful  day,  so  they  all  agreed,  full  of  in- 
terest and  thrills  that,  for  many  days  there- 
after, were  fruitful  themes  for  conversation. 
And  thus  passed  into  history  the  very  first  ex- 
cursion by  rail  to  the  City  of  Kankakee. 

Dominick  Bray,  Voyageur,  Trader,  Citizen 

Dominick  Bray,  a  French-Canadian,  in  his 
youth  a  voyageur,  and  later,  an  engage  of  the 
great  Astor  enterprise,  The  American  Fur 
Company,  when  that  organization  first  began 
operations  in  the  country  of  the  Illinois,  was, 
after  Noel  LeVasseur,  the  first  white  settler 
on  the  Kankakee  river  in  the  district  now 
known  as  Bourbonnais  township.  It  was  over 
one  hundred  years  ago  that   he    came  to  the 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 171 

country  of  the  Illinois,  threading  the  then  un- 
known water  trails  of  the  Kankakee  and  Iro- 
quois rivers  with  the  batteaux  of  the  early  trad- 
ers. His  first  location  was  at  Middleport,  now 
Watseka.  Later,  for  a  number  of  years,  his 
headquarters  were  at  the  old  trading  post  es- 
tablished by  Hubbard  at  "Bunkum,"  on  the 
Iroquois  river,  near  the  site  of  the  present  vil- 
lage of  that  name.  It  was  here  that  in  1830 
and  1832  a  son,  Dominick  Jr.,  and  a  daugh- 
ter, Ellen,  were  born,  the  latter,  who,  at  the 
great  age  of  ninety,  is  still  living  near  Fenni- 
more,  Wisconsin.  Many  were  the  trips  he 
made  with  Hubbard  and  LeVasseur  up  and 
down  the  "Hubbard  Trail,"  as  that  pioneer 
thoroughfare  was  known,  through  the  country 
of  the  nation  of  the  Pottawattomies,  trading 
with  the  dusky  inhabitants  and  collecting  pelts. 
Little  by  little  the  charm  of  the  country  of  the 
Kankakee  Valley,  with  its  woods,  and  plains, 
and  stream,  fastened  upon  the  youthful  Bray, 
and  became  a  lure,  an  obsession,  not  to  be  re- 
sisted for  long  once  the  opportunity  offered  to 
strike  out  for  himself. 

The  removal  of  the  Pottawattomies  in  1833- 
34  to  the  reservation  near  Council  Bluffs,  Iowa, 
was  a  blow  to  the  fur  trade.     Hubbard  with- 


172 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

drew  to  Chicago,  and  Bray,  left  to  his  own  re- 
sources, did  not  long  hesistate,  but  made  for 
the  Kankakee,  where  LeVasseur  had  preceded 
him  by  about  a  year. 

The  scene  of  Bray's  active  operations  in 
Kankakee  county,  was  the  farm  now  known  as 
the  America  Brosseau  farm,  lying  two  miles 
out  on  the  Bourbonnais  road,  in  Bourbonnais 
township,  and  between  this  place  and  the  river 
laid  the  reservation  of  the  Pottawattomie  chief, 
"Me-she-ke-te-no."  Through  the  intervention 
and  kindly  offices  of  his  friend,  LeVasseur, 
Bray  succeeded  in  purchasing  his  land  from  its 
Indian  owner  for  a  cash  consideration  of  twen- 
ty-five cents  an  acre,  in  specie,  together  with  a 
few  beads  and  trinkets,  which,  in  the  eye  of  the 
Indian,  possessed  a  value  in  excess  of  specie. 
He  set  to  work  and  built  a  commodious  double 
log  cabin  and  here,  in  1833,  was  born  Andre 
Bray,  the  first  white  child  born  in  Bourbonnais 
township.  In  the  years  that  followed  other 
children  were  born,  and,  in  the  year  1845,  twin 
daughters,  Clarissa  and  Mary,  gladdened  the 
home,  the  former,  now  Mrs.  Deciel,  of  Chicago, 
and  the  latter,  Mrs.  Baltazor,  of  Bradley,  who, 
at  the  age  of  seventy-seven  years,  recall  enter- 
tainingly many  reminiscences  of  Bourbonnais' 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 173 

first  pioneers,  and  the  delights  of  those  early 
days  on  the  river. 

The  first  service  of  the  mass  that  ever  took 
place  in  Kankakee  county,  was,  without  doubt, 
that  held  at  the  Bray  homestead  in  June,  1837, 
when  Andre  Bray,  the  son,  was  duly  baptized 
according  to  the  rites  of  the  Catholic  church. 
This  service  was  conducted  by  Father  LaLu- 
miere,  a  typical  missionary  of  the  woods  and 
plains,  who,  with  his  portable  altar,  followed 
hard  on  the  trail  of  his  wilderness  flock,  and 
administered  to  their  spiritual  needs  as  oppor- 
tunity offered. 

Bray  was  of  that  forceful,  energetic  type, 
who,  in  lieu  of  education,  he  being  unable  either 
to  read  or  write,  had  accumulated  a  fund  of 
practical  knowledge  and  experience  by  asso- 
ciation with  such  men  as  Gurdon  S.  Hubbard 
and  Noel  LeVasseur.  Noel  LeVasseur,  also, 
could  neither  read  nor  write,  but  for  many 
years  he  successfully  carried  on  large  trading 
operations,  and  such  book-keeping  as  the  exi- 
gencies of  that  day  made  imperative,  was  in 
the  sign-language  of  the  Pottawattomies.  Sup- 
plies were  sometimes  advanced  to  certain  of  the 
Indians  who  were  to  pay  for  them  later  in 
furs.     These  goods  were  indicated  pictorially. 


m LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

Thus,  a  number  of  fine  dots,  indicated  powder ; 
a  quantity  of  larger  black  dots  indicated  bul- 
lets; a  blanket  was  a  square,  with  something 
of  the  design,  if  it  happened  to  be  thus  orna- 
mented; a  knife,  or  gun,  or  tomahawk  was 
shown  in  outline,  and  with  the  Indian's  indi- 
vidual totem  affixed  thereto,  whether  it  was 
"Big  Horse,"  or  "Little  Turtle,"  or  "The 
Dove,"  or  "The  Bear,"  or  what  not,  the  proof 
of  the  obligation  was  thus  made  indisputable. 
Bray  had  a  keen  perception  and  the  instincts 
of  the  trader,  and  in  and  about  his  cabin  home 
the  evidences  of  industry,  participated  in  by 
the  members  of  his  family  generally,  were  not 
lacking.  The  younger  girls  were  busy  weav- 
ing the  wheat-straw  in  long  plaits,  which  were 
later  made  into  straw  hats.  Hides  were  tanned 
by  means  of  white-oak  bark,  and  leather  thus 
obtained  was  worked  up  into  moccasin-like 
shoes  which  the  settlers,  up  and  down  the  river, 
were  glad  to  get,  for  they  were  not  only  serv- 
iceable but  cheap.  A  straw  hat  of  ample  di- 
mensions, as  put  up  in  the  Bray  home,  sold 
for  one  shilling,  twelve  and  one-half  cents,  and 
a  pair  of  the  red,  oak-tanned  moccasins 
brought  one  dollar.  He  would  drive  hogs  over 
the  "Hubbard  Trail"  into  Chicago,  and  with 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 175 

the  proceeds  of  the  sale  he  purchased  groceries, 
and  other  necessities,  which  he  carried  on  his 
back  to  the  home  on  the  Kankakee. 

Most  notable  among  the  achievements  of 
Bray,  when  you  consider  the  time  in  which  he 
lived,  and  the  limitations  imposed  by  lack  of 
funds  and  the  wherewithal  to  do,  was  the  erec- 
tion of  a  two-story  brick  dwelling — a  mansion, 
if  you  please — which  was  the  talk  of  the  set- 
tlers generally,  far  and  wide.  This  building 
was  put  up  in  1848  or  1849  and  was  the  first  of 
its  kind  to  be  built  on  the  river.  For  nearly 
seventy-five  years  it  has  served  continuously  as 
a  habitation.  This  building  is  an  interesting 
example  of  Bray's  resourcefulness.  In  the  first 
place,  he  made  the  bricks  used  in  its  construc- 
tion, right  on  the  ground.  A  small  pen  of  rails 
was  built  into  which  a  number  of  cattle  were 
turned.  These  cattle  were  kept  constantly 
moving  by  small  boys  perched  on  the  top  rails 
of  the  pen,  who  plied  the  gad  vigorously.  Water 
was  poured  on  the  ground,  and  the  constant 
tramping  of  the  cattle  soon  converted  the  soil 
into  mud  of  a  consistency  to  be  readily  mould- 
ed into  bricks.  After  the  bricks  had  been  thor- 
oughly sun-dried,  they  were  arranged  in  the 
form  of  a  kiln  and  burned,  the  adjacent  timber 


176 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

furnishing  an  abundance  of  fuel  for  that  pur- 
pose. That  the  bricks  thus  produced  were  of 
excellent  quality  goes  without  saying,  for  they 
are  still  doing  duty  in  this  late  day. 

The  lime  used  in  the  mortar  was  produced 
on  the  place.  The  limestone  was  quarried  and 
piled  on  a  platform  of  dry  hickory  wood,  the 
whole  enclosed  with  a  thick  covering  of  prairie 
sod  and  earth,  after  which  the  hickory  was  fired 
and  left  to  smolder.  In  the  bed  of  Davis  creek, 
a  little  ways  to  the  west,  quantities  of  excellent 
sand  were  procured.  It  is  said  that  Bray  had 
the  help  of  a  Frenchman,  who  understood  ma- 
sonry construction,  and  that,  together,  they 
carried  up  the  walls  and  completed  the  job. 
There  was  nothing  fancy  about  it,  in  fact,  the 
lines  of  the  house  were  severely  plain.  But  it 
was  comfortable  and  substantial,  and  its  ad- 
vantages so  far  outshone  the  old  log  habitation 
that,  in  comparison,  it  seemed  like  a  palace. 
The  outside  finishing  lumber  for  this  home  was 
of  the  finest  clear-grained  walnut  and  the  tim- 
ber in  the  window-frames  is  of  the  same  valu- 
able material,  four  to  six  inches  thick.  A  grand 
old  sachem  of  the  black  walnut  tribe,  that  stood 
in  the  Cooper  woods,  gave  up  its  life  to  fill  the 
need  of  that  day.     It  must  have  been  a  glori- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 177 

ous  specimen  in  its  vigor  and  prime,  for  the 
remnants  of  the  mouldering  stump  that  re- 
main today  measure  nearly  four  feet  across. 

During  the  years  that  he  lived  on  the  Kan- 
kakee, Bray  had  prospered,  and  the  new  abode 
was  a  reflex  of  it.  Not  only  that,  the  Cana- 
dian families  of  the  neighborhood,  especially 
those  of  "Little  Canada,"  a  unique  settlement 
of  ten  or  a  dozen  Canadian  families,  brought 
west  through  the  instrumentality  of  LeVas- 
seur,  accorded  to  him  something  of  the  defer- 
ence and  respect  shown  to  a  "Bourgeois,"  or 
head  man  of  the  old  days,  and  this,  in  its  way, 
was  most  pleasing  to  the  master  of  the  new 
house.  The  first  holiday  season  spent  in  the 
new  home  was  celebrated  by  a  "Bouquet  Par- 
ty," participated  in  by  the  youth  of  the  neigh- 
borhood as  well  as  a  goodly  number  of  the 
older  people.  The  youth  of  the  country  round- 
about, made  up  a  collection  of  money  which 
they  placed  in  the  hands  of  the  host,  to  be  used 
by  him  in  providing  suitable  entertainment  for 
the  company  during  the  three-days'  celebration 
that  ensued,  and  which  included  "Nouvelle  An- 
nee,"  or  the  New  Year.  The  days  of  the  "Bou- 
quet Party"  were  enlivened  by  sports  common 
in  that  day,  varied  now  and  then  by  a  wood- 


178 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

chopping  contest  in  which  it  was  not  unusual 
to  find  some  lithe,  active,  muscular  young 
woman  disputing  honors  with  the  young  men. 
The  days  were  also  enlivened  by  "corn-husking 
bees,"  participated  in  by  the  girls  and  boys, 
and  great  was  the  excitement  when  the  much- 
sought  red  ear  was  uncovered  by  some  lucky 
swain,  who  proceeded  to  exact  a  kiss  from  his 
sweetheart  amid  the  tumultuous  encourage- 
ment of  the  merry  company.  Others  of  the 
younger  girls,  meantime,  wove  the  plaits  of 
wheat-straw,  in  strands  of  six  or  nine,  and  a 
goodly  number,  chosen  from  day  to  day,  aided 
by  the  older  women,  devoted  their  attention  to 
preparing  the  meal  of  the  day,  which  was 
spread  in  feudal  pomp  and  splendor  in  the  main 
part  of  the  house. 

And  what  banquets  they  were,  with  all  the 
good  things  of  the  wilderness  storehouse  to 
draw  upon!  What  savory  odors  emanated 
from  that  backwoods  kitchen  redolent  of  sad- 
dles of  venison,  and  where,  in  the  glow  of  the 
capacious  fireplace,  suspended  from  strings, 
the  carcasses  of  wild  turkeys  were  kept  slowly 
revolving  until  they  were  beautifully  brown, 
and  done  to  a  turn!  Do  you  realize  that  the 
phrase,  "Done  to  a  turn,"  originated  in  just 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 179 

such  a  manner?  There  was  something  "homey," 
something  suggestive  of  gastronomic  treats  in 
that  old  kitchen  whose  rafters  hung  plentifully 
festooned  with  strings  of  onions,  garlic,  and 
bright,  shiny  red  peppers,  and  in  whose  shad- 
owy corners  lurked  bunches  of  sage  and  other 
herbs,  gathered  from  the  wild,  whose  savors 
gave  an  added  piquancy  to  the  feast,  besides 
recalling  memories  of  similar  occasions  long 
ago,  back  on  the  St.  Lawrence  or  Riviere  de 
Loup. 

What  a  jolly,  boisterous  assemblage  of  the 
youth  and  middle-aged  that  crowded  around 
that  primitive  board  set  in  the  wilderness  home ! 
How  the  tongues  wagged,  and  the  eyes  spar- 
kled as  quip  and  jest  flew  right  merrily!  It 
was  a  babble  of  voices  uproarious  and  unre- 
strained, reflecting  the  spirit  of  good  cheer 
that  clearly  outdone  old  Boreas  himself  as  he 
roared  in  futile  rage  at  door  and  casement. 
With  something  of  the  stateliness  of  old  days, 
old  Dominick,  the  host,  in  a  manner  becoming 
a  host,  expressed  felicitations,  and  proposed 
the  health  of  the  company,  on  which  libations 
of  "w'iskey  blanc,"  for  the  older  ones,  and 
"Vin  Rouge,"  for  the  younger  members,  were 
quaffed. 


180 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

The  tables  were  then  cleared  and  taken  out 
preparatory  to  the  dance  that  followed,  while 
the  older  members  of  the  company  gathered 
before  the  blazing  hearth  and  smoked.  Joe 
LaTroumaine,  he  who  lost  his  life  by  drown- 
ing a  year  later,  in  1850,  while  crossing  the 
Kankakee  river,  tuned  his  fiddle  and,  as  the 
dancers  gathered  on  the  floor,  set  them  off  in  a 
cotillion  to  the  strains  of  Moneymusk  or  "Cath- 
erine Durand."  For  hours  they  danced  and 
reveled  in  that  lightsomeness  of  spirit  which  is 
the  especial  inheritance  of  youth ;  and  for  hours 
the  elders  smoked  and  dozed  about  the  fire- 
place and  dreamed  of  days  that  were. 

As  a  diversion,  while  they  enjoyed  a  breath- 
ing spell,  the  dancers  called  on  Dominick  to 
relate  tales  of  his  youth,  when,  as  a  voyageur, 
he  came  first  into  the  great  middle  west,  and 
many  a  brave  tale  he  told  of  adventure  and 
hardship  until,  at  last,  his  mounting  enthusi- 
asm inspired  him  to  sing  the  songs  of  the  voy- 
ageur, among  which,  the  following  was  a  fa- 
vorite, sung  in  part  by  Dominick  and  a  chorus 
of  the  guests: 

Dominick. — "Michaud  est  monte"  dans  un  prunier, 
Pour  trellier  des  prunes. 
La  branche  a  casse* — 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 181 

Chorus. — Michaud    a    tombe? 
Dominick. — Ou  est-ce  qu'il  est? 

Chorus. — II  est  en  bas. 
Dominick. — Oh!  reveille,  reveille,  reveille, 

Oh!  Reveille,   Michaud   est   en  haut!" 

The  marvelous  part  of  the  performance  on  the 
part  of  Michaud  seems  to  have  been  his  ability 
to  still  remain  in  the  tree  after  the  branch  had 
broken.  After  trying  out,  in  song,  an  amaz- 
ingly large  number  of  trees,  with  the  same  re- 
sults, so  far  as  Michaud  was  concerned,  then 
Adele  Odette  would  be  called  upon  to  sing  the 
famous,  much-loved  Canadian  jig  and,  moved 
by  memories  that  warmed  the  blood,  old  Domi- 
nick and  "LaPointe"  Odette  would  dance  while 
the  encircling  company  urged  them  on  by  the 
kindly  encouragement  of  words  of  approval 
now  and  then,  while  they  kept  time  by  patting 
their  knees  with  their  hands.  It  is  a  French 
custom,  very  generally  observed,  that  the  oldest 
son  takes  the  name  of  the  father.  Therefore, 
"LaPointe"  Odette,  whose  name  was  Bateese, 
was  thus  distinguished  from  his  son,  because,  in 
Canada,  he  had  lived  on  a  piece  of  land  shaped 
like  a  flat-iron,  or  pointed. 

That  is,  in  part,  the  story  of  the  battered 
and  weather-stained  house  that  stands  today 


182 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

out  on  the  old  Bourbonnais  road,  in  the  days 
when  it  was  new  and  when  its  first  guests  gath- 
ered there  and  made  merry  under  its  roof -tree. 
You  would  hardly  think  it,  would  you,  of  that 
quiet,  serious-looking  domicile  that  seems  to 
shrink  more  and  more  into  the  kindly  shadow 
of  the  trees,  as  the  years  go  by,  as  if  fearful 
that  someone  may  know  that  it  once  had  known 
joy.  Old  houses,  after  all,  are  a  good  deal  like 
old  people;  sometimes  the  fires  that  warm 
them  burn  low ;  sometimes  the  light  fades  from 
the  windows  and  its  welcome  glow  in  the  night 
is  lost  to  us,  just  as  sometimes  the  light  of  the 
eye  pales,  and  fades,  and  we  miss  the  glint  of 
its  old-time  friendliness.  But  the  winter  winds 
have  never  forgotten  that  joyousness  ran  riot 
here  at  the  old  house,  and  at  that  season  when 
old  King  Boreas  marshals  his  hosts  for  an  on- 
slaught into  the  valley  of  the  Kankakee,  which 
is  about  the  time  of  "Nouvelle  Annee,"  or  the 
New  Year,  his  legions  still  assault  door  and 
casement  of  the  old  place  with  all  their  old-time 
fury,  and  then  die  down  for  a  moment  in 
hushed  expectancy,  as  if  waiting  for  some  chal- 
lenging shout  from  within.  But  there  is  no 
answering  shout.  Death,  long  ago,  took  toll 
of  the  merry  revelers.    The  things  we  have  told 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 183 

you  about,  the  old  house  has  not  known  in  half 
a  century,  and  never  will  know  again.  It  is  old, 
and  decrepit,  and  old-fashioned;  very,  very 
much  so,  just  like  the  memories  it  treasures; 
but  the  memories,  how  dear ! 

The  Story  of  "Little  Canada" 

The  township  of  Bourbonnais,  besides  being 
distinguished  as  the  place  of  abode  of  the  first 
white  settler,  claims  our  attention  and  interest 
by  reason  of  the  fact  that  during  the  late  forties 
a  number  of  Canadian  families,  brought  to  the 
western  wilderness  by  Noel  LeVasseur,  settled 
on  the  Francis  LeVia  reservation,  west  of 
Davis  creek,  in  what  is  now  known  as  Bourbon- 
nais township,  forming  a  unique  and  populous 
settlement  which  for  years  was  known  as 
"Petite  Canada."  It  took  courage  seventy- 
five  years  ago  to  break  the  "home  ties"  and  set 
out  on  untrod  paths  half-way  across  the  con- 
tinent to  find  a  home  spot  in  the  heart  of  the 
wilderness.  But  our  early-day  fathers  and 
mothers,  while  lacking  in  much  which  the  world 
of  today  holds  as  most  essential,  were  not  lack- 
ing in  courage.  In  that  early  day  about  the 
scarcest  thing  was  money.  The  most  plentiful 
thing  was  unoccupied  land,  with  its  timber,  in 


184 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

which  game  abounded,  intervals  on  which  grain 
might  be  raised,  and  streams  which  abounded 
with  the  finest  fish.  Here,  then,  was  an  oppor- 
tunity for  the  poor  man  to  live  while  getting  a 
"toe-hold,"  and  here  these  Canadians  settled 
on  small  parcels  of  land,  none  of  which  ex- 
ceeded thirty  acres  in  extent. 

This  little  settlement  of  ten  or  a  dozen  fami- 
lies was  a  most  primitive  one,  as  may  be  readily 
imagined.  Of  the  original  first  settlers,  Charles 
Tebeault  held  sixteen  acres,  John  Odette 
twenty  acres,  Alex  Dandurand  twenty  acres, 
Luke  Betourne  thirty  acres,  John  Dandurand 
thirty  acres,  Francis  Baltazor  thirty  acres,  and 
nearer  to  the  river  were  located  Louis  Goyette 
with  three  acres,  and  Alexine  Castoneau  and 
one  Deschon  with  not  to  exceed  three  or  four 
acres  apiece.  The  inference  is  natural  that  the 
title  of  "Little  Canada"  was  fittingly  applied 
to  a  community  that  held  tenaciously  to  old 
manners  and  customs  and  traditions  of  the 
Canadian  home-land.  There  was  another  and 
more  cogent  reason  for  thus  distinguishing  the 
newly  founded  colony.  It  should  be  borne  in 
mind  that  these  settlers  were  of  the  old 
Canadian  stock  and  most  worthy  exemplars  of 
the  ancient  tradition  of  big  families,  and  for 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 185 

that  reason  the  community  commanded  the  re- 
spect of  the  countryside.  It  may  heighten 
your  regard  for  the  sterling  qualities  of  those 
old-time  pioneers  on  being  told  that  the  popu- 
lation of  "Little  Canada"  was  around  about 
seventy  in  that  day,  composed  as  follows: 
Charle  Tebeault,  ten  children;  John  Odette, 
five  children;  Alex  Dandurand,  six  children; 
Luke  Betourne,  five  children;  John  Dandu- 
rand, four  children;  Francis  Baltazor,  five 
children;  Louis  Goyette,  four  children;  Alex- 
ine  Castonneau,  six  children ;  Deschon,  six 
children.  Add  to  these  the  heads  of  families, 
eighteen,  and  you  have  a  total  of  fifty-nine 
souls,  to  which  we  almost  forgot  to  add  old  man 
Marcheterre  (who  owned  and  gave  to  M. 
Tebeault  the  sixteen  acres  of  land  on  which  he 
lived  for  taking  care  of  him  in  his  last  days), 
which  rounds  out  and  makes  the  grand  total  of 
seventy  which  "Little  Canada"  claimed  as  its 
own. 

In  the  early  days  of  the  settlements  along 
the  St.  Lawrence  river,  "Seigniories,"  or  grants 
of  land  from  the  crown,  with  a  narrow  frontage 
on  the  water,  but  extending  back  into  the  tim- 
ber for  a  mile  or  more,  were  allotted  to  each 
settler.    By  this  arrangement  he  had  access  to 


186 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

the  water,  plenty  of  timber  for  his  cabin,  as 
well  as  interval  on  which  to  grow  his  grain. 
Another  advantage  of  this  early-day  plan  was 
that  the  homes  of  the  settlers  were  thus  brought 
closer  together  that  they  might  live  more  hap- 
pily and  at  the  same  time  be  the  better  enabled 
to  resist  any  sudden  attack  by  the  Indians. 
This  idea  of  living,  ingrained  in  the  very  fiber 
of  generation  after  generation  of  French- 
Canadians,  we  find  exemplified  in  the  little 
community  on  the  Kankakee  in  the  days  prior 
to  the  50's,  and  this  fact  alone  is  proof  that  the 
title  "Petite  Canada"  was  no  misnomer. 

Our  pioneer  friends  who  first  settled  "Little 
Canada,"  in  the  Francis  LeVia  reservation,  did 
not  have  the  advantage  of  a  grant  of  land  from 
anybody.  Francis  LeVia  sold  his  reservation, 
consisting  of  a  section  of  land,  to  Noel  LeVas- 
seur  in  1835,  and  he  in  turn  sold  it  to  Robert 
A.  Kinzie  in  1837.  These  pioneers  just  nat- 
urally squatted  on  the  land  and  acquired  it  lit- 
tle by  little,  and  their  combined  holdings  for 
many  years  did  not  exceed  one  hundred  and 
sixty  acres. 

After  seventy  years  "Little  Canada"  has 
become  only  a  memory,  dear  to  the  hearts  of 
those  who,  as  children,  played  in  its  sylvan 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 187 

shade  or  busied  themselves  with  the  varied  oc- 
cupations of  the  "habitant."  They  hunted, 
fished  and  trapped  in  their  youth,  and  grew  up 
wise  to  the  lore  of  prairie,  woods  and  stream, 
absorbing,  naturally,  the  deeper  wisdom  of  the 
wilderness  after  the  manner  of  their  forebears. 
The  hard  work  and  meager  fare  of  that  day 
produced  a  vigorous,  hardy  type  of  citizen,  who 
met  the  day's  tasks  and  problems  uncomplain- 
ingly and  with  a  stout  heart,  and  in  the  end 
subdued  the  wilderness  realm  and  caused  it  to 
blossom  like  the  rose.  "Little  Canada,"  as  we 
have  said,  in  this  day  is  but  a  memory.  The 
grave  has  long  since  closed  over  those  fathers 
and  mothers  who,  leaving  their  own  beloved 
Canada,  made  possible,  for  a  brief  space,  the 
"Little  Canada"  of  the  LeVia  reservation. 
The  sons  and  daughters  of  these  pioneer  sires, 
such  as  are  left  to  us,  have  in  turn  become 
white-haired  and  venerable,  and  they  and  their 
children  occupy  stately  homes,  surrounded  by 
broad,  fertile  acres,  in  many  instances  the  finest 
to  be  found  in  all  the  wondrous  Valley  of  the 
Kankakee. 

"Little  Canada"  that  was,  is  today  included 
within  the  holdings  of  Magloire  Pepin.  The 
log  cabins  of  the  settlers  have  long  ago  disap- 


188 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

peared,  and  even  the  Francois  Baltazor  home, 
which  was  impressive  for  its  quality  in  that 
day,  having  been  built  of  stone,  is  no  more. 
The  march  of  events  in  this  tremendous  age  has 
obliterated  "Little  Canada"  completely.  It  is 
hopelessly,  irretrievably  lost,  to  live  no  more 
except  in  the  memory  of  those  who  have 
listened  to  the  narration  of  tales  of  its  erstwhile 
glory  by  some  tottering,  white-haired  grand- 
father. 

When  Young  Folks  Danced  Over  in  Little 
Canada 

Youth  is  youth  the  world  over — make  no 
mistake  about  that.  Youth,  with  its  rising  tide 
of  life,  be  it  high  or  low,  rich  or  poor,  in  the 
town  or  in  the  woods  or  on  the  prairie,  finds 
relief  from  the  prosaic  hum-drum  of  every- 
day life  by  indulgence  in  various  games,  the 
party  and,  best  of  all,  the  dance.  Tales  of  the 
dances  of  the  old-time  pioneers  come  to  us  now 
and  then  from  out  the  misty  regions  of  the  past, 
and  it  is  then  that  we  conjure  up  visions  of  a 
gay,  light-hearted  company  of  young  people, 
attired  in  a  finery  that  would  be  a  distinct  shock 
to  the  sensibilities  of  the  present  day,  except, 
perhaps,  that  one  might  find,  in  the  wearers 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 189 

thereof,  enough  of  originality  and  charm  to 
make  up  for  whatever  there  may  have  been 
lacking  in  style. 

Imagination  pictures  the  log  house,  with  its 
puncheon  floor  and  window  panes  of  greased 
paper;  the  broad,  hospitable  maw  of  the  fire- 
place, with  its  andirons  and  pots  and  kettles, 
all  suggestive  of  unstinted  hospitality;  the 
home-made  furniture,  rude  but  serviceable; 
and  over  the  throng  of  dancers,  as  they  move 
in  and  out  in  the  various  figures  of  the  dance, 
the  feeble  rays  of  the  "home-made' '  tallow 
candle  playing  hide-and-seek.  Everywhere  is 
radiated  the  cheer  of  the  abounding  spirit  of 
youth,  and  blended  with  the  soft  shuffle  of 
many  feet  on  the  floor  is  the  low  hum  of  voices, 
a  suppressed  titter  on  the  part  of  some  maiden 
whose  partner  has  dared  whisper  how  lovely 
she  is,  and  over  all  the  droning  of  the  music 
and  the  strident  voice  of  the  backwoods  caller. 

"Little  Canada"  in  the  fifties,  with  its  ten  or 
twelve  Canadian-French  families  situated  side 
by  side,  with  its  youthful  population  of  nearly 
sixty  boys  and  girls,  held  many  an  impromptu 
soiree  in  the  cabins  that  comprised  the  settle- 
ment. And  they  were  some  times,  too — quelque 
temps — don't  forget  that.    We  tell  you  just  as 


190 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

it  was  told  to  us.  For  these  occasions  the  girls 
put  on  their  best  and  only  calico  dress,  bought 
in  Chicago  at  ten  cents  a  yard.  This,  with  a 
pair  of  "home-made"  cowhide  shoes,  completed 
the  ensemble,  except  that  some  of  the  more 
fortunate  ones  drew  on  the  heirlooms  of  the 
family  for  a  bit  of  bright- colored  ribbon,  or  an 
ancient  piece  of  lace  or  jewelry  wherewith  to 
heighten  their  attractions.  Like  real  daughters 
of  Eve,  the  too  insistent  glow  of  healthful,  rosy 
cheeks,  was  dimmed  noticeably  by  a  dash  of 
flour  out  of  the  family  bin  (but  not  like  sister 
does  it  today,  not  hardly)  and,  with  a  wild 
flower  or  two  tucked  coquettishly  in  her  hair, 
she  was  ready.  About  all  that  good  form  re- 
quired of  Bateese,  and  Adelor,  and  Jacques, 
and  Pierre,  and  Marcel,  and  others  of  the  boys, 
was  to  slip  into  their  best  Kentucky  jeans 
trousers  and  smooth  down  their  hair  and  make 
it  glossy  by  the  application  of  a  little  raccoon 
oil,  and  thus  "dolled  up"  and  painfully  con- 
scious of  it  the  while,  they,  too,  were  ready,  and 
by  twos  and  fours  sought  out  the  cabin  from 
whose  door  streamed  a  welcoming  light. 

The  attendance  at  a  dance  in  "Little 
Canada"  ranged  anywhere  from  fifteen  to 
twenty-five  of  the  young  people,  with  a  sprink- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 191 

ling  of  the  fathers  and  mothers,  who  ex- 
perienced an  irresistible  itching  of  the  soles  of 
their  feet  whenever  Marcel  Odette's  wife  began 
to  sing.  How  Marcel's  wife  could  sing! 
Sapre!  Moved  by  the  spell  of  her  entrancing 
notes,  it  made  the  blood  to  tingle  and  the  feet 
to  move,  whether  you  would  or  not.  We  must 
tell  you  about  it.  "Little  Canada"  among  its 
varied  possessions  had  neither  violin,  accordion 
nor  any  musical  instrument  whatever — not 
even  a  jewsharp.  How,  then,  could  anybody 
dance?  you  ask.  Well,  it  was  like  this.  Mar- 
cel's wife  had  a  fine  voice.  She  sang  or  hummed 
beautifully  all  the  popular  airs  for  the  cotillion, 
the  quadrille,  the  "French  Four"  and  the 
Canadian  Jig.  Marcel's  wife,  whose  name  was 
Adele,  was  most  accommodating.  She  had 
been  a  girl  once  herself  and  enjoyed  to  the  full 
the  pleasures  of  the  dance,  and  when  she  sang 
the  old  tunes  rhythmically  and  with  feeling, 
and  in  perfect  time,  Oh,  Garcon,  it  was  beauti- 
ful, inspiring,  transporting!  For  years  the 
youth  of  "Little  Canada"  did  honor  to  the 
musical  genius  of  Adele  Odette  and  gave  her 
first  place  over  the  best  orchestra  that  ever  was. 
She  was  possessed  of  wonderful  endurance,  for 
she  would  sing  for  hours,  with  but  brief  inter- 


192  LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

missions,  and  many  were  the  nights  when  the 
fun  became  fast  and  furious  and  the  dancers, 
in  a  frenzy  of  joyous  enthusiasm,  insisted  on 
more  and  still  more,  until  the  flying  hours 
brought  the  dawn  and  thoughts  of  home. 

Among  the  dancers  in  this  old-time  com- 
pany, Arrette  Baltazor  and  Pierre  Bouvain 
were,  by  universal  consent,  acclaimed  the  best. 
"Ah,  M'esieu',"  said  our  informant,  "just  to 
behold  them  as  partners  in  the  Trench  Four,' 
moving  gracefully  and  keeping  time  with  that 
old  Canadian  chanson,  'The  Twin  Sisters/  as 
sung  by  Adele  Odette — what  joy!  What 
pleasure!  La!  La!  La!"  Always  at  the  con- 
clusion of  the  dance  there  was  a  great  buzzing 
of  voices  and  a  great  clapping  of  hands  "for 
the  Trench  Four'  encore,"  and  with  Arrette 
and  Pierre  in  the  lead,  flushed  and  joyous, 
away  they  would  go  again,  light  as  birds,  until 
Adele,  red  of  face  and  perspiring,  threw  up  her 
hands  in  sheer  exhaustion. 

In  the  delightfully  expressive  dialect  of  the 
"habitant,"  who  readily  conceded  honor  where 
honor  was  due,  "Arrette  and  Pierre  wos  the 
mos'  bes'  dancers  on  the  worF."  And  when 
you  recall  that  "Little  Canada"  was  their 
world,  the  statement  was  not  so  extravagant  as 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 193 

might  seem.  After  a  brief  rest  Marcel's  wife 
would  sound  the  notes  of  the  Canadian  Jig, 
which  was  generally  responded  to  by  some 
white-haired  patriarch  who  moved  with  much 
dignity  and  often  with  much  ease  and  grace  of 
movement  in  the  various  steps,  amid  the  plaud- 
its of  young  and  old. 

Generally,  on  occasions  of  this  kind,  there 
were  refreshments,  consisting  of  small  cakes, 
the  surfaces  of  which  were  liberally  spread  with 
the  sugary  substance  of  the  wild  honey,  pro- 
cured from  the  family  supply  in  the  hickory 
trough,  and  a  snappy,  home-made  drink,  known 
as  "Epinette."  "Connaissez-vous  l'epinette?" 
Well,  any  native  Canadian  will  tell  you  that  it 
is  a  home-brewed  beer,  made  from  the  juice  or 
gum  of  the  spruce-fir,  which  abounds  in 
Canada.  In  "Little  Canada"  there  was  a 
scarcity  of  spruce  trees,  so  necessary  when  you 
undertake  the  brewing  of  "epinette,"  so  rosin 
was  often  used  to  impart  the  flavor,  if  not  the 
"kick,"  to  the  beverage,  as  a  graceful  tribute  to 
memories  of  old-time  Canada.  More  often 
than  not  the  party  came  to  a  close  with  the 
dawn,  and  then  the  boys  dropped  coppers  in 
Adele's  palm,  sometimes  as  many  as  twenty 
and  twenty-five,  and  it  was  then  that  Adele 


194 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

was  conscious  of  a  great  joy  that  her  humble 
efforts  should  be  rated  so  highly.  Don't  smile 
too  broadly  at  Adele's  simplicity.  This  all 
happened  in  the  days  before  much  money  had 
made  people  foolish.  As  she  viewed  it,  the 
compensation  was  more  than  generous — it  was 
almost  extravagant. 

Time  has  laid  a  heavy  hand  on  "Little 
Canada,"  and  there  remains  no  trace  or  vestige 
of  it  today.  Long,  long  ago  its  gray-haired 
sires  answered  the  call  of  the  grim  reaper,  and 
long,  long  since  the  youthful  habitants,  whose 
excess  of  spirit  made  the  days  and  nights  of  the 
wilderness  ring  with  their  joyousness,  have 
gone  out — some  near,  some  far — and  with  their 
passing  passed  also  the  light  of  the  open  door 
that  first  illumined  the  depths  of  the  forests  on 
the  Kankakee.  One  after  another  the  hospita- 
ble home  fires  on  the  hearth- stones  of  "Little 
Canada"  burned  low  and  died  out  in  ghastly 
white  embers.  Today  there  is  not  a  cabin  left. 
It  is  simply  the  graveyard  of  happy  memories 
of  a  day  long  gone.  There  are  times,  though, 
when  the  golden-rod  is  in  bloom,  when  the  sum- 
mer sun  hangs  low  in  the  west  and  the  air  is 
heavy   with   golden   mists   that   tremble   and 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 195 

shimmer  in  the  early  glow  of  evening,  when, 
from  the  fringe  of  timber  that  lies  along  the 
river,  comes  the  call  of  the  cardinal — bold,  clear, 
musical — calling  to  mind,  were  one  familiar 
with  all  that  took  place  in  "Little  Canada," 
when  Marcel  Odette's  wife  sang  the  old  songs 
dear  to  Canadian  hearts,  while  the  boys 

"Danced  all  night, 
'Till  broad  daylight, 
And  went  home  with  the  girls  in  the  morning." 

Walking  as  a  Lost  Art 

With  the  tremendous  increase  of  automobile 
transportation  in  this  garish  age  in  which  we 
live,  that  most  helpful  and  beneficial  of  all 
exercises — walking — designed  by  the  Creator 
to  keep  the  human  machine  attuned  to  a  high 
state  of  physical  perfection  and  efficiency,  has 
taken  a  decided  slump.  The  family  bus  has  a 
tremendous  appeal  for  pater-familias,  even 
though  the  haul  may  be  a  short  one.  In  this 
day  daughter  simply  must  ride  to  school,  for  if 
she  walked,  what  would  the  girls  say?  And, 
besides,  the  strain  on  her  high  French  heels,  or 
rather  the  strain  occasioned  by  the  aforesaid 
French  heels,  is  something  awful — not  to  be 
considered  for  a  moment  unless  one  goes  out 


196  LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

for  an  all-night  dance.  Even  sixteen-year-old 
Willie  loads  his  wilted  frame  into  the  machine 
to  go  to  the  corner  drug  store,  only  a  block 
away,  for  a  package  of  cigarettes.  And  "Ma" 
— we  almost  forgot  "Ma" — just  like  every- 
body else  does  in  this  day.  Well,  if  it  wasn't 
for  the  machine,  "Ma"  wouldn't  get  anywhere; 
she  wouldn't  even  get  her  nose  out  of  doors — 
and  there  you  are.  Nature  still  registers  with 
old-time  constancy,  and  the  human  species  still 
continues  to  be  born  with  legs,  by  means  of 
which  they  saunter,  amble,  perambulate,  hop, 
skip,  jump,  sidle  or  skid  out  of  the  way  of  the 
omnipresent  auto.  Oh,  we  are  getting  along 
beautifully  in  these  days  when  it  comes  to  rid- 
ing in  a  machine,  and  that  goes  for  the  whole 
family,  but — what's  the  use  of  going  further! 
Let  us  rather  cite  a  few  examples  of  what  they 
did  in  the  days  when  they  had  to  do  it! 

Pierre  LeClaire,  a  half-breed,  was  sent  by 
Major  Robert  Forsythe  with  the  news  of  the 
War  of  1812  to  his  uncle,  Mr.  John  Kinzie,  at 
Chicago.  He  started  in  the  early  morning  and 
walked  from  the  mouth  of  the  St.  Joseph  river 
around  the  southern  shore  line  of  Lake  Michi- 
gan to  Chicago,  a  distance  of  ninety  (90)  miles, 
in  one  continuous  walk.     He  arrived  at  Mr. 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 197 

Kinzie's,  ate  his  supper,  and  crossed  over  the 
river  to  report  to  the  officers  at  Fort  Dearborn, 
arriving  there  some  time  before  nine  o'clock 
that  evening.  That  record  stands  well  up  to 
the  head  for  a  day's  walk.  But  he  who  estab- 
lished this  record  was  only  a  half-breed. 

Gurdon  S.  Hubbard  in  March,  1823,  one 
hundred  years  ago,  had  occasion  to  see  some 
Indians  who  were  camped  at  "Big  Woods," 
on  the  Fox  river,  in  DuPage  county,  west  of 
Chicago.  After  transacting  his  business  with 
them,  on  the  evening  before  returning  home  an 
Indian,  who  belonged  to  a  band  encamped  some 
ten  miles  distant,  came  to  the  wigwam  where 
he  was  and  said  he  was  going  to  accompany 
him  to  his  trading  post.  Hubbard  gave  him 
some  supper  and  told  him  he  would  start  early 
the  next  morning.  They  started  as  soon  as  it 
was  light  enough  to  see  to  travel,  and  found  the 
ground  very  soft  and  muddy. 

Hubbard  noticed  that  his  companion  walked 
very  fast.  About  noon,  though,  he  stopped  to 
smoke,  but  Hubbard,  having  made  up  his 
mind  that  the  Indian  wanted  a  race,  kept  on 
walking  very  fast  and  got  a  long  way  ahead. 
Reaching  the  Illinois  river  above  Hennepin,  op- 
posite his  trading  house,  he  found  that  his  canoe 


198 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

had  been  taken.  The  bottom  lands  from  the 
river  to  the  bluffs  were  overflowed,  so  he  got 
upon  a  log  and,  by  pulling  on  the  bushes  and 
pushing  with  a  stick,  got  finally  to  the  river  and 
swam  across.  The  following  morning  he  sent 
some  of  his  men  back  to  look  for  the  Indian. 
They  found  him  with  a  party  on  horseback  and 
very  deeply  chagrined  at  his  defeat.  It  was  then 
that  Hubbard  discovered  that  the  band  he  had 
visited  had  wagered  with  the  band  the  Indian 
belonged  to  that  he  would  outwalk  the  best 
man  they  could  produce.  The  distance  walked 
that  day  by  Hubbard  was  seventy-five  miles, 
and  while  he  suffered  no  inconvenience  from 
the  trip,  the  Indian  was  badly  used  up.  Among 
the  Pottawattomie  Indians,  Hubbard  went  by 
the  name  of  "Pa-pa-ma-ta-be,"  or  "The  Swift 
Walker." 

Mr.  Joseph  Haigh,  a  tall,  raw-boned  Eng- 
lishman, purchased  a  quarter  section  of  land 
of  the  Illinois  Central  Railroad  in  1855,  the 
land  being  located  one  mile  south  of  Chebanse 
station.  He  walked  in  one  day  from  Chebanse 
to  Danville,  where  the  government  land  office 
was  located,  and  recorded  his  deed,  a  distance 
of  over  sixty  miles,  and  on  the  return  trip  the 
following  day  made  nearly  as  good  time.    The 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 199 

writer  remembers  Mr.  Haigh  as  a  most  vig- 
orous individual,  who,  for  many  years,  held  in 
contempt  all  means  of  locomotion  save  what 
the  Lord  had  given  him  in  the  way  of  legs. 
Trips  from  his  farm  to  Clifton,  five  miles  away, 
or  Kankakee,  ten  miles  distant,  he  invariably 
made  on  foot  and  thought  but  little  of  it. 

"Uncle  Bill"  Parrish,  of  Momence,  was 
another  man  whom  the  exigencies  of  pioneer 
life  inspired  with  the  habit  of  depending  upon 
himself  whenever  the  emergency  arose.  Along 
around  1840,  when  Kankakee  county  was  still 
a  part  of  Iroquois,  old  Middleport,  now  a  part 
of  the  city  of  Watseka,  was  the  county-seat. 
In  that  year  and  for  several  years  thereafter 
"Uncle  Bill"  walked  from  Momence  to  Middle- 
port,  a  distance  of  thirty  miles,  to  pay  his  taxes. 
He  made  use  of  the  old  Chicago- Vincennes 
road,  then  called  the  Hubbard  Trail,  and  with 
economic  foresight  walked  the  trail  barefooted, 
with  his  stockings  in  his  pocket  and  his  boots 
slung  over  his  shoulder.  Mother  Nature  re- 
news a  cuticle  worn  thin  by  contact  with  the 
earth  and  tough  prairie  grass,  but  will  not  do 
as  much  for  a  pair  of  boots — and  boots  were 
boots  in  that  day.  Arriving  near  Watseka,  or 
Middleport,  he  would  wash  his  feet  at  a  con- 


200 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

venient  wayside  brook,  put  on  his  stockings  and 
boots  and,  thus  "dressed-up,"  continue  on  to 
his  destination. 

"Uncle  Walt"  Hess,  who  lived  four  miles 
up  the  river  above  the  Parrish  place,  in  his 
younger  days,  when  he  worked  for  Parrish, 
used  to  pride  himself  on  making  the  four  miles 
on  foot  each  morning,  arriving  in  time  to  begin 
the  day's  work  promptly  at  sunrise.  In  all  the 
time  he  worked  there  it  is  said  that  never  once 
did  sunrise  catch  him  on  the  road.  It  was  a 
common  experience  for  many  of  the  settlers, 
who  had  stock  to  market,  to  drive  them  sixty 
miles  to  Chicago,  sell  them,  load  up  with  neces- 
sary articles  in  the  way  of  family  supplies,  and 
foot  it  back  to  the  Kankakee. 

We  give  these  instances  of  early-day  activi- 
ties, not  with  the  hope  that  the  generation  of 
today  may  be  moved  to  emulate  them,  but 
rather  that  the  vim  and  energy  of  our  ancient 
fathers  may  inspire  something  of  admiration, 
languid  though  it  be. 

The  Papoose's  Cradle 

In  these  days  of  luxurious  hard  roads,  as  you 
guide  your  flivver  or  touring  car  out  via  East 
Court  street,  intent  on  joining  the  throng  of 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 201 

speed-bugs  that  infest  the  Dixie  Highway, 
with  no  very  well  defined  idea  as  to  where  you 
are  going,  or  what  you  are  going  to  do,  other 
than  that  you  are  going  to  show  your  heels  to 
the  bunch  and  cut  her  loose,  let  us  urge  you 
to  pause  for  a  moment  in  your  mad  flight  and 
turn  to  the  left  into  one  of  the  dirt  roads  out 
beyond  the  bridge.  This  road  will  bring  yoi* 
soon  to  the  south  bank  of  the  river,  a  delight- 
ful drive,  fringed  with  the  fast  thinning  rem- 
nants  of  the  forest  primeval.  Up  near  the  old 
Ichabod  Stoddard  farm,  which  is  now  the 
Legris  place,  some  little  distance  this  side  of 
where  the  Dixie  makes  its  turn  along  the  river 
bank  towards  Momence,  is  to  be  seen  a  huge 
water  elm,  situated  well  down  the  bank  and 
close  to  the  water.  This  tree  is  not  only  beauti- 
ful to  behold,  but  has  a  history  as  well.  It  is 
intimately  associated,  historically,  with  the 
tribe  of  Pottawattomie  Indians,  who  originally 
occupied  the  land  before  and  during  the  occu- 
pancy of  the  first  white  settlers. 

The  infant  son  of  a  chief  having  died,  his 
body  was  placed,  according  to  an  Indian  cus- 
tom, in  a  portion  of  a  log  hollowed  out,  the 
opening  covered  securely  with  a  slab  of  bark, 
tied    down    with    rawhide   thongs    and    stout 


202 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

withes,  after  which  it  was  slung  high  up  among 
the  branches  of  this  noble  old  elm.  There,  in 
his  aerie  sepulcher,  this  little  scion  of  savage 
royalty  slept  the  years  away,  his  rude  cradle 
rocked  by  the  winds,  while  the  Indian  moons 
waxed  and  waned  and  the  years  slipped  silently 
one  by  one  from  the  hand  of  The  Great  Spirit 
into  the  stream  of  time,  even  as  the  leaves  put 
forth  and  mirrored  the  loveliness  of  the  passing 
seasons  with  their  green  and  crimson  and  gold, 
in  the  placid  bosom  of  the  Kankakee,  only  to 
fall  at  last  and  be  borne  out  forever  and  aye 
beyond  mortal  ken. 

In  springtime  the  birds  built  their  nests  in 
the  heavy  foliage,  and  here  in  the  long,  dreamy, 
summer  days,  from  high  up  among  the  top- 
most boughs,  they  sang  their  sweetest  songs; 
and  sweeter  still,  perhaps,  if  you  had  but 
listened,  was  the  song  of  the  south  wind  amid 
the  leafage — not  a  song,  exactly,  but  some- 
thing like  the  crooning  of  a  lullaby,  soft  and 
low  and  sweet  and  comforting,  such  as  only  a 
mother  sings  to  the  babe  on  her  breast.  There 
were  times,  so  many  of  the  early  settlers  around 
Momence  say,  when  the  old  chief  and  his 
squaw,  who  had  been  thus  bereft,  would  wend 
their  way  in  moody  silence  to  the  old  elm  that 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE WS 

stands  by  the  river  and  there  indulge  in  lamen- 
tations wild  and  weird,  after  which  they  would 
sit  within  the  widespreading  shade  with 
blankets  closely  drawn  over  their  heads,  and  the 
body  of  the  squaw  would  move  rhythmically, 
like  a  flower  before  the  wind,  while  the  old 
chief  smoked  his  calumet  stolidly,  and  no  word 
did  they  speak,  one  to  another,  while  thus  they 
sat  with  their  dead. 

And  there  came,  at  last,  a  day  when  these 
children  of  the  woods  and  plains,  warriors  and 
old  men,  the  lame,  the  halt  and  the  blind,  with 
their  worldly  possessions,  a  motely  group, 
heavy  of  heart  and  sad,  set  out  on  the  long 
journey  for  their  new  home  at  Council  Bluffs, 
Iowa,  many  suns  distant,  because  the  great 
white  father  had  so  willed.  That  day  the  old 
Cradle  Elm  was  visited  again  and  all  the 
strange  ceremonials  of  grief  and  mourning 
were  re-enacted,  and  it  was  with  steps  that 
faltered  and  eyes  that  turned  longingly  back 
as  they  moved  away,  and  the  old  elm  waved  a 
farewell  to  them  until  the  vast  prairie  stretches 
intervened  and  swallowed  them,  and  down  in 
the  rugged  heart  of  it  there  was  a  thrill  and  a 
shudder  at  the  tragedy  of  it  all. 

An  Indian,  among  other  peculiar  ideas  con- 


204 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

cerning  his  origin,  believes  that  his  physical 
being  is  somehow  closely  related  to  the  soil 
whereon  he  was  born.  He  feels  that  he  is  a 
part  of  it,  hence,  there  is  a  deep  feeling  of  at- 
tachment for  the  land  where  his  forebears  have 
hunted  and  fished  and  held  their  council  fires. 
So  deeply  is  this  feeling  implanted,  so  strong 
the  yearning  for  the  old  associations,  that  for 
many  years  after  their  removal  to  the  lands  at 
Council  Bluffs  many,  at  various  times,  found 
their  way  back  on  foot,  and  among  them  were 
those  who  sought  out  the  old  Cradle  Elm, 
where,  high  in  the  upper  branches,  the  queer 
wooden  receptacle  and  its  precious  dust  still 
swung  to  and  fro,  rocked  by  the  hand  of  the 
Great  Spirit,  while  the  south  winds  crooned 
ever  so  softly. 

For  many  years  the  body  of  the  Indian  babe 
in  its  primitive  log  casket  swung  in  the  tree- 
top  by  the  river's  side,  a  familiar  object  to  all 
the  old  settlers  of  the  countryside.  It  remained 
until  long  after  the  visits  of  the  red  man  had 
ceased,  and  then  one  day  it  disappeared — just 
when,  and  how,  no  one  seems  to  know.  It  may 
have  become  a  part  of  mother  earth  about  the 
tree,  or  it  may  have  been  caught  on  the  gently 
moving  current  of  the  river  and  borne  away  in 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 205 

quest  of  that  glorious  land  of  Indian  dreams — 
the  happy  hunting  ground.  But  the  old  elm 
still  stands  serene,  dignified,  majestic,  as  if 
glorying  in  its  stewardship  and  the  memory  of 
the  affection  of  a  vanished  race.  And  there  are 
those  who  say  that  even  now,  along  in  the  late 
days  of  October,  when  the  pale  green  of  the 
forest  has  turned  to  crimson  and  gold  and  the 
corn  shocks  loom  like  Indian  wigwams  in  the 
blue  haze,  which  is  nothing  more  than  the  smoke 
from  the  peace-pipes  of  the  departed  in  the 
spirit-land  wafted  back  to  earth,  there  is  a  new 
song  of  the  south  wind  in  the  old  tree's  top 
which  is  neither  lullaby  nor  direful  lamenta- 
tion, but  a  chant  of  welcome  and  recognition 
to  old  familiar  forms. 

The  Coming  Together  of  the  76th  Regiment 
and  Tommy  Gorman 

Do  you  remember  old  Tommy  Gorman,  who, 
in  the  days  of  the  Civil  War,  used  to  run  a  fruit 
stand  at  248  South  East  avenue,  this  side  of 
the  old  Exchange  Hotel?  Well,  maybe,  like 
myself,  you  were  too  young  to  remember  much 
of  what  happened  to  Tommy  the  day  the  old 
Seventy-sixth  Regiment  was  mustered  into 
service  and  entrained  for  the  south,  and  that  is 


206 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

why,  in  all  probability,  you  will  enjoy  hearing 
about  it  now.  English  capital  paid  for  it,  but 
the  muscle  and  brawn  of  the  Emerald  Isle 
built  the  Illinois  Central  into  Kankakee  in 
1853,  and  Tommy  Gorman  was  one  of  them. 
Even  though  he  was  of  the  virile,  "red-shirted" 
variety,  who  smoked  his  stubby  clay  pipe  bot- 
tom-side up  and,  next  to  a  drink,  liked  a  fight 
better  than  anything  else,  somewhere  back 
along  the  trail  of  the  ages  the  genealogical  line 
of  the  Gormans  must  have  been  crossed  by  a 
strain  of  Sicilian  or  Italian  or  some  other  fruit- 
vending  race,  otherwise,  why  would  Tommy 
abandon  the  shovel  and  the  pick  to  peddle  fruit? 
Answer  me  that.  But  this  is  not  an  auto- 
biography— merely  a  tale  of  how  Company  H 
mixed  it  with  Tommy  on  that  eventful  day 
back  in  August,  1862. 

Old  Tommy  got  the  jolt  of  his  life  that  day, 
and  for  the  first  time  in  his  career  came  to  know 
by  downright  experience  that,  though  he  was 
a  citizen  of  a  country  where  "free  speech"  was 
a  guaranteed  birthright,  there  were  times  when 
it  was  the  part  of  wisdom  to  be  silent.  For 
reasons  which  no  one  ever  took  the  trouble  to 
investigate,  Tommy  Gorman  sympathized  with 
the  South.     Generally,  after  some  news  from 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 207 

the  front  that  announced  disaster  to  the  Union 
cause,  Tommy  would  be  heard  from.  He 
seemed  to  swell  up  with  pride  and  beam  with  a 
sense  of  satisfaction  that  at  last  became  so  in- 
tolerable to  the  loyal  citizenry  that  it  began  to 
be  freely  hinted  that  someone  ought  to  "put  a 
head  on  him."  "Putting  a  head  on  him"  was 
the  mild  slang  of  that  day  for  what  we  would 
now  term  "beating  him  up."  But  what  was 
everybody's  business  was,  in  reality,  nobody's 
business,  and  the  much-talked  of  "someone" 
who  was  to  deal  out  the  long-merited  chastise- 
ment never  materialized,  and  the  upshot  of  it 
was  that  Tommy  pursued  the  even  tenor  of  his 
way  with  a  growing  confidence  in  his  ability  to 
say  disagreeable,  irritating  things  and  get  away 
with  it  all. 

All  went  well  with  him  until  that  fateful  day 
when  the  old  Seventy-sixth  Regiment,  march- 
ing down  from  the  Fair  Grounds,  marched  by 
his  place  on  the  avenue  to  entrain  at  the  Illinois 
Central  depot,  which  was  then  at  Station  street. 
As  Company  H,  Captain  Plummer  in  com- 
mand, drew  near  the  place  at  248,  there  was  a 
sudden  "right  about,  face,"  a  sudden  dissolving 
of  the  ranks  and,  losing  all  semblance  of  order, 
the  men  swarmed  over  that  fruit  stand  of  Gor- 


208 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

man's  like  ants  over  an  ant-hill.  What  they 
did  not  do  to  the  place  might  be  a  proper  sub- 
ject for  further  narrative.  If  they  left  any- 
thing undone  it  was  because  they  were  in  a 
hurry  and  overlooked  it.  Every  atom  of  stock 
in  the  house  was  appropriated  or  destroyed  on 
the  spot,  furniture  was  broken,  the  front  win- 
dows knocked  out,  and  the  place  invested  with 
a  general  air  of  desolation.  Tommy  made  a 
fortunate  and  timely  get-away  via  the  back 
door,  and  the  boys  who  watched  his  precipitate 
flight  say  that  he  covered  the  several  hundred 
yards  from  his  back  door  to  the  adjacent  tim- 
ber "in  just  nothin',  flat."  When,  several  hours 
later,  he  ventured  back,  after  Company  H  had 
gone,  he  stepped  high  and  cautiously,  like  a  cat 
that  has  had  experience  with  high  explosives. 
Accounts  vary  as  to  just  what  happened  on 
this  particular  morning  to  disturb  the  equa- 
nimity of  the  boys  of  Company  H.  Some  have 
it  that,  as  the  boys  were  passing  Gorman's 
place,  he  so  forgot  himself  as  to  "Hurrah  for 
Jeff  Davis!"  By  others  it  is  said  that  the  boys 
had  entrained,  and  the  Illinois  Central,  in  lieu 
of  coaches,  had  proivded  a  train  of  flat  cars, 
with  ties,  placed  one  upon  the  other,  for  seats, 
and  that  while  awaiting  the  signal  to  pull  out, 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 209 

someone  made  his  way  to  the  waiting  train  and 
told  of  Gorman's  seditious  utterances.  How- 
ever that  may  have  been,  all  accounts  as  to 
what  happened  agree  perfectly  and  in  every 
detail.  That  first  skirmish  of  the  Seventy-sixth 
had  the  effect  of  making  a  pretty  good  citizen 
out  of  Tommy,  and  long  years  after,  now  and 
then  one  of  the  boys  who  had  helped  to  take  the 
place  apart,  would  stop  and  buy  something  and 
ruminate  on  that  incident  of  long  ago.  But 
Tommy,  they  say,  never  did  get  over  it  alto- 
gether, and  always  the  measured  tread  of  feet 
on  the  walk  outside  made  him  nervous  and  un- 
easy and  inspired  within  him  a  fear  of  the  Lord. 

The  Coming  of  the  First  Buggy  to 
Kankakee  County 

Along  in  the  year  1839,  "Uncle  Jimmie" 
Van  Meter  and  his  wife,  "Aunt  Lucinda,"  as 
they  were  later  affectionately  termed  by  the 
settlers  on  the  Kankakee,  Mrs.  Van  Meter,  at 
the  time  of  her  arrival  in  the  country  being  only 
a  bride  of  a  few  months,  made  their  way  here 
from  Circleville,  Ohio,  and  settled  on  land  be- 
yond Davis  creek,  near  the  Bourbonnais  road. 
Mr.  VanMeter  soon  came  to  realize  the  won- 
derful possibilities  of  the  new  situation  in  the 


310 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

Indian  reservation  lands  lying  along  the  beauti- 
ful Kankakee,  and  set  to  work  acquiring  as 
much  of  it  as  possible.  Mrs.  VanMeter  did 
not,  at  that  time,  share  the  enthusiasm  of  her 
husband.  Pioneer  life,  with  its  privations  and 
hardships,  was  not  so  much  the  cause  of  her 
discontent,  as  was  the  fact  that  her  nearest 
neighbors  were  the  Pottawattomie  Indians, 
whose  tepees  thickly  dotted  the  woodland  lying 
along  the  river  in  what  is  today  known  as  the 
Cooper  farm.  "Aunt  Lucinda"  loved  her 
spouse  with  all  that  deep  devotion  which 
woman  gives  to  the  one  of  her  choice,  but  the 
deadly  monotony  of  life  on  the  vast,  unoccu- 
pied prairie,  the  long  days  without  companion- 
ship, the  brooding  silence  which  bore  down  on 
the  little  log-cabin  home,  set  amid  surroundings 
without  one  familiar  object,  except  it  might  be 
the  all-embracing  canopy  of  Heaven,  inspired 
her  with  a  homesickness  that  grew  and  became 
more  acute  with  the  passing  days.  From  time 
to  time  she  petitioned  her  energetic  spouse  to 
let  go  and  make  a  trip  back  to  the  old  home  in 
Pickaway  county,  in  God's  country,  where  she 
could  once  more  behold  familiar  faces,  only  to 
be  put  off  by  the  extreme  urgency  of  work  that 
pressed  on  all  sides.     So,  spring  drifted  into 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 211 

summer,  and  the  summer  by  slow  degrees  gave 
way  to  early  fall  and,  so  far  as  she  could  see,  he 
was  busier  than  ever  and  the  prospect  of  going 
home  as  remote  as  ever.  By  this  time  she  had 
developed  a  condition  of  mind  bordering  on 
desperation.  She  met  him  one  day  with  an 
ultimatum,  the  gist  of  which  was  that  she  was 
going  back  if  she  had  to  walk! 

It  was  then  it  dawned  on  "Uncle  Jimmie" 
that  there  are  times  in  the  life  of  womankind 
when  an  ultimatum  is  just  exactly  what  the 
label  reads,  and  so  with  an  air  of  graciousness 
he  resigned  himself  to  the  inevitable,  while  the 
little  wife  smiled  amid  her  tears  with  a  light- 
ness of  heart  she  had  not  known  in  months.  It 
was  decided  that  they  would  make  the  trip  on 
horseback,  and  accordingly,  one  day,  a  week 
later,  after  having  partaken  of  their  dinner, 
they  made  fast  the  door  of  their  cabin  home  and 
mounted  their  horses,  with  such  articles  as  were 
needed  for  the  journey  stowed  away  in  saddle- 
bags. They  made  their  way  out  over  the  old 
Indian  trail,  the  remains  of  which  one  may  see 
to  this  day,  deep  in  the  woods  of  the  Cooper 
farm.  The  hard  maples  were  gorgeous  in  their 
autumnal  colorings,  and  here  and  there  through 
an  opening  in  the  woods  lay  the  placid  river  of 


212 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

the  Kankakee  like  a  ribbon  of  blue  on  the 
bosom  of  the  prairie.  The  scenes  on  the  Kanka- 
kee to  this  day  are  most  beautiful  to  look  upon. 
What  must  they  have  been  before  the  devastat- 
ing hand  of  civilization  fell  upon  them?  They 
followed  the  winding  way  of  the  old  "Indian 
Trail,"  crossing  the  river  at  Waldron  at  the 
old  Schobar  ford,  and  continued  on  the  trail 
until  they  reached  old  "Bunkum,"  on  the  Iro- 
quois. From  there  they  struck  in  a  south- 
easterly direction  for  LaFayette,  Ind.,  reach- 
ing the  place  after  several  days'  travel.  They 
stopped  at  the  home  of  a  sister  of  Mrs.  Van- 
Meter,  who  resided  in  LaFayette,  and  that 
lady  was  astounded  at  the  thought  of  her  young 
sister  making  the  long  trip  from  the  Illinois 
country  to  her  home  in  Circleville,  Ohio,  on 
horseback.  The  hardships  of  travel  by  this 
means  were  already  telling  heavily  against  her, 
and  the  sister  went  after  "Uncle  Jimmie"  in  a 
most  vigorous  fashion  in  an  effort  to  convince 
him  that  his  spouse  should  be  provided  with 
some  more  comfortable  means  of  conveyance 
for  the  remainder  of  the  trip. 

"Uncle  Jimmie"  seems  to  have  been  duly  im- 
pressed with  the  arguments  advanced  and, 
after  looking  about  in  LaFayette,  fell  in  with 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 213 

a  man  who  was  building  a  buggy.  He  at  once 
entered  into  negotiations  with  the  builder  for 
the  purchase  of  the  buggy,  but  was  obliged  to 
defer  his  trip  for  ten  days  while  the  man  fin- 
ished the  job  and  applied  a  single  coat  of  paint. 
He  purchased  harness  for  the  horses,  hitched 
them  to  the  vehicle,  and,  thus  equipped,  he  and 
his  bride  made  the  remainder  of  the  trip  in 
luxurious  ease.  They  spent  the  winter  in  Ohio 
and  the  following  spring,  which  was  the  spring 
of  1840,  the  bride  having,  in  the  interval  spent 
with  her  people,  regained  her  wonted  cheerful- 
ness, set  out  over  the  prairie  trail  for  the  hum- 
ble cabin  home  on  the  edge  of  the  wood,  near 
the  Kankakee,  with  the  team  and  buggy. 
There  are  events  in  the  lives  of  all  of  us  that 
are  hallowed,  and  cherished  with  a  fondness 
and  depth  of  feeling  that  time  cannot  quite 
efface,  and  shadowy  tradition  has  it  that  this 
old-time  couple,  then  in  the  hey-day  of  youth, 
in  all  the  years  that  drifted  by  showering  them 
with  their  gifts,  nothing  ever  surpassed  the 
perfect  joy  of  that  leisurely  trip  home  as  they 
made  their  way  across  prairies  that  glowed 
with  the  first  touch  of  spring;  through  forests 
awakening  under  the  urge  of  its  latent  life  and 
resonant  with  the  welcoming  songs  of  the  birds ; 


214 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

for  "Uncle  Jimmie"  and  "Aunt  Lucinda"  were 
something  more  than  pioneers — they  were  lov- 
ers, and  their  hearts  were  made  light  and  joy- 
ous as  the  birds  by  whisperings  of  a  supreme 
joy,  which  the  future  held,  when  they  would 
welcome  an  additional  member  to  the  little 
family  circle. 

This  buggy  which  "Uncle  Jimmie' '  and 
"Aunt  Lucinda"  used  on  their  home-coming, 
was  the  first  that  ever  appeared  within  the  con- 
fines of  Kankakee  county.  As  they  made  their 
way  along  the  old  Indian  trail  that  wound  in 
and  out  among  the  sugar  maples  and  drew  near 
to  the  camping  site  of  the  Pottawattomies  on 
the  Cooper  farm,  the  strange  equipage  was 
viewed  with  consternation  by  the  Indian  chil- 
dren and  with  well  defined  surprise  and  inter- 
est by  the  braves  and  squaws  who,  later,  when 
they  found  it  was  none  other  than  "Uncle  Jim- 
mie" and  his  wife,  fairly  overwhelmed  them 
with  their  inquisitiveness.  That  buggy  was  a 
wonderful  thing  to  Indian  and  white  man  alike 
and  even  the  French-Canadian,  at  sight  of  this 
most  unusual  vehicle,  forgot  his  greeting  of 
"Bo'  jou',"  and  stared  until  it  was  out  of  sight. 

Later,  when  Noel  LeVasseur  dissolved  the 
marital  relations  that  bound  him  to  the  Pot- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE      215 

tawattomie  squaw,  "Watch-e-kee,"  and  sold 
thirty- seven  acres  of  the  woodland  of  the  pres- 
ent Cooper  farm  to  VanMeter,  he  received 
therefor  six  hundred  dollars  in  cash,  a  wagon 
and  team  of  horses,  an  ox-cart  and  yoke  of 
oxen  and  the  famous  buggy.  And  all  this  he, 
in  turn,  gave  to  "Watch-e-kee,"  his  squaw- 
wife,  as  compensation  for  relinquishing  her 
rights  as  his  wife.  Some  time  later,  in  1841,  or 
thereabouts,  many  of  the  Pottawattomies  were 
transferred  to  the  new  reservation  near  Coun- 
cil Bluffs,  Iowa,  and  among  them  went 
"Watch-e-kee"  and  her  three  sons.  It  was  a 
sorrowful  day  at  the  old  camping  ground  in  the 
woods  by  the  river.  There  was  the  sound  of 
lamentation  among  these  children  of  the  forest 
that  began  with  the  rising  of  the  sun  on  that 
fateful  day,  and  continued  without  cessation 
until  the  savage  cavalcade  had  moved  out  and 
away  into  the  distant  reaches  of  the  prairie. 
There  were  old  men  and  braves  astride  their 
ponies,  squaws  toiling  along  on  foot,  children 
ranging  far  and  wide  with  bows  and  arrows 
looking  for  game  and  filling  the  air  with  their 
childish  clamor.  About  the  last  to  leave  the 
grove  and  become  a  part  of  this  motley  proces- 
sion came  "Watch-e-kee,"  clad  in  all  the  sav- 


216 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

age  finery  at  her  command  and  seated  in  regal 
splendor  in  the  buggy — the  first  that  ever  came 
to  Kankakee  county,  and,  without  doubt,  the 
first  that  ever  made  the  trip  to  the  then  distant 
land  of  western  Iowa.  And  thus  passed 
"Watch-e-kee"  and  the  first  buggy  into  the 
land  of  the  setting  sun. 

"For   They   Were   Jolly   Good   Fellows" 

There  is  a  well  authenticated  legend  which 
links  the  names  of  two  old-time  Pottawattomie 
chiefs  in  rather  an  unusual  and  interesting 
manner.  They  were  Shaw-was-ke-suk,  "The 
White  Pigeon,"  located  over  in  the  timber  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Morocco,  Indiana,  and  old 
chief  "Mo-men-ce,"  whose  people,  in  the  early 
days,  were  located  on  the  Kankakee  river  in 
what  is  now  known  as  Momence  and  Ganeer 
townships.  Of  all  the  vices  of  the  white  man 
to  which  the  Indian  fell  heir,  there  was  one 
which  he  adopted  with  an  enthusiasm  and  spon- 
taneity as  remarkable  as  it  was  deplorable, 
and  that  was  the  white  man's  "fire-water." 

These  two  old  cronies  would  get  along  very 
nicely  for  several  moons  following  the  straight 
and  narrow  path  of  rectitude  and  sobriety,  un- 
til the  urge  to  "get  off  the  wagon,"  (as  they 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 217 

say  in  this  day) ,  and  quaff  of  the  cup  that 
cheers,  became  too  strong  and  insistent  to  be 
successfully  resisted  without  too  much  anguish 
of  spirit.  At  such  times  a  runner  would  be 
dispatched  by  old  Momence  to  White  Pigeon's 
camp,  summoning  him  to  tribal  headquarters 
on  the  Kankakee.  White  Pigeon,  thus  sum- 
moned, always  responded,  and,  in  the  course  of 
a  day  or  so,  would  appear  with  his  favorite 
squaw,  clad  in  the  regal  habiliments  of  a  forest 
monarch,  and  there,  during  the  more  or  less 
protracted  season  of  chief  Momence's  debauch, 
was  vested  with  authority  to  administer  the  af- 
fairs of  the  tribe,  with  none  to  say  him  nay,  and 
at  the  same  time  he  kept  "cases"  on  his  brother 
monarch. 

There  is  an  old  saying  "that  one  good  turn 
deserves  another."  These  old  boys,  perhaps, 
were  not  up  on  old  sayings  and  things  like  that, 
but,  nevertheless,  they  practiced  the  spirit  of 
them,  so,  therefore,  when  a  messenger  from 
White  Pigeon  suddenly  appeared  in  old  Mo- 
mence's domain,  with  a  request  for  the  chief's 
presence,  by  that  token  he  knew  that  White 
Pigeon  had  come  to  the  end  of  his  tether ;  that 
the  thirst  was  active,  and  that  it  was  not  hu- 
manly possible  for  him  to  hold  out  against  the 


218 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

lure  of  the  fire-water  for  long.  And  he,  in 
turn,  appeared  duly  in  White  Pigeon's  village, 
adorned  with  all  the  savage  splendor  at  his 
command  and,  on  taking  over  the  reins  of  gov- 
ernment, doubtless  gave  him  a  reassuring 
thump  on  the  back,  with  the  admonition:  "Go 
to  it,  old  kid;  you  know  me — go  as  far  as  you 
like." 

In  the  case  of  the  visiting  potentate,  who 
thus  succeeded  temporarily  as  the  administra- 
tive head,  a  rigid  abstemiousness  was  always 
observed,  and  there  is  no  single  instance  re- 
corded in  the  traditional  annals  of  these  two, 
that  friendship  was  ever  j  eopardized  by  a  lapse 
of  conduct  on  the  part  of  the  one  thus  entrusted 
with  the  administration  of  tribal  affairs,  what- 
ever his  predilection  for  fire-water  may  have 
been.  Though  his  mouth  may  have  watered, 
and  dripped  profusely  at  the  prospect,  yet  he 
held  his  yearnings  well  in  hand,  and  with  a  firm 
grip.  And,  in  this  respect,  he  had  it  on  his 
white  brother,  in  a  very  noticeable  degree. 

And  White  Pigeon  did  know  old  Momence 
for  a  "Jolly  Good  Fellow,"  one  that  he  could 
tie  to,  and,  without  a  thought  for  the  future, 
and  without  one  disturbing  qualm  of  con- 
science, he  joyously  laid  aside  the  affairs  of 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 219 

state  and,  while  the  family,  warned  by  these 
significant  portents,  withdrew  to  hibernate  for 
a  season  in  the  underbrush,  or  the  tall  timber, 
White  Pigeon  went  out  and  "got  a  beautiful 
bun  on,"  and  made  the  welkin  howl. 

There  is  a  wise  old  saw  which  says  that  "The 
good  is  oft  interred  with  the  bones."  But  tales 
of  human  weaknesses,  apparently,  never  die, 
but  live  on  and  on  in  the  ghostly  half-lights  of 
tradition,  from  generation  to  generation 
"To  point  a  moral  or  adorn  a  tale." 

A  Tale  of  Old  Kankakee 

In  the  historical  annals  of  Kankakee,  that 
is  to  say,  in  the  unwritten  lore  of  early  days 
that  lingers  still  in  the  memory  of  the  older  in- 
habitants of  the  city,  you  will  now  and  then 
find  that  mention  is  made  of  one  John  Chest- 
nut, once  a  resident  of  the  city,  who  was  looked 
upon  in  the  light  of  a  "bad  man"  generally.  It 
is  not  to  be  gathered  from  this  that  he  was  a 
"gun-man,"  or  one  who  delighted  in  disturbing 
the  peace  of  the  community,  as  a  reason  for 
applying  to  him  the  sobriquet  of  "bad-man." 
In  many  respects  he  was  likable,  and  of  a 
superior  type.  But  he  was  a  drinker  of  strong 
liquor,  a  scoffer  of  the  faith  that  man  has  in 


220 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

Deity  and  of  those  institutions  which  reflect 
the  efforts  of  the  better  element  of  society  to 
build  up  and  maintain  a  superior  moral  tone 
in  a  community.  In  short,  his  profession  was 
that  of  a  gambler.  He  was  skilful,  astute  and 
nervy,  and  in  the  numerous  encounters  of  that 
day,  many  of  his  adversaries  in  the  game,  after 
pitting  their  wit  and  skill  against  his,  came 
sooner  or  later  to  acknowledge  the  superiority 
of  his  skill  or  his  luck.  He  was  looked  upon  as 
a  "square"  player  but,  somehow,  his  success 
was  proverbial.  He  wore  fine  linen  and  equal- 
ly fine  raiment,  as  is  the  custom  of  the  frater- 
nity, and  these  were  the  envy  of  the  younger 
stratum  of  society  whose  contributions  to  the 
god  of  chance  made  much  of  this  possible. 

In  time  John  Chestnut  became  deeply  en- 
amoured of  a  certain  young  woman  of 
the  city,  whose  name  is  not  necessary  to  the 
story,  but  she  looked  upon  him  coldly,  and 
with  a  lofty  scorn,  and  not  the  least  scintilla 
of  encouragement  did  she  ever  extend  to  him. 
The  failure  of  his  efforts  affected  him  deeply. 
He  grew  moody,  and  immersed  himself  deeply 
in  the  cup  that  sometimes  cheers,  but  which 
more  often  brings  forgetfulness.  He  developed 
also  an  insidious  malady  which  slowly  but  sure- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 221 

ly  sapped  his  strength,  so  that  friends  from 
day  to  day  noted  an  increasing  pallor  of 
the  countenance  and  a  slowing  down  of  move- 
ment very  unusual  for  John  Chestnut.  As  time 
wore  on  he  was  missed  at  times  from  his  usual 
haunts,  and  at  last,  after  many  weeks  and 
months,  he  took  to  his  bed,  and  the  grim  spec- 
tre, death,  also  took  up  his  abode  there  in  the 
chamber  of  the  dying.  In  vain  he  looked  to 
the  attending  physician  for  some  word  of  hope. 
He  grew  constantly  weaker  until,  at  last,  there 
came  a  night  when  his  premonitory  sixth  sense 
indicated  that  the  end  was  not  far  off.  It  was 
then  that  a  strange  calmness  of  spirit  and  res- 
ignation to  his  impending  fate  succeeded  the 
impatience  and  irritability  of  months  of  illness. 
It  was  then  that  this  man  of  the  world  sur- 
prised those  in  attendance  at  his  bedside,  by 
expressing  the  wish  that  a  minister  of  the  gos- 
pel be  with  him  in  his  last  hours,  although  he 
felt  that  it  was  asking  much  of  those  towards 
whom  he  had  shown  so  much  indifference  dur- 
ing his  lifetime.  In  fact,  he  doubted  whether 
there  was  one  who  would  respond  in  the  hour 
of  his  dire  need.  Dr.  Joseph  H.  Barnard,  fa- 
ther of  George  Barnard,  the  eminent  sculptor, 
whom  many  of  the  older  residents  remember, 


222 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

responded  to  the  call  of  the  dying  man  and, 
during  the  hours  of  that  last  night  on  earth, 
while  life  ebbed  slowly  away,  brought  to  the 
broken  and  penitent  gambler  such  consolation 
as  only  the  Gospel  can  give,  aided  by  the  minis- 
trations of  a  kindly,  sympathetic  soul,  thor- 
oughly imbued  with  the  teachings  of  Christ. 

Among  those  in  attendance  at  the  bedside 
that  night,  was  Lawyer  Lake.  Now,  Lawyer 
Lake,  if  you  recall,  was  a  unique  character. 
On  days  when  he  appeared  in  court  the  people 
flocked  thither  to  be  thrilled  by  the  power  of 
his  eloquence,  or  amused  and  diverted  by  his 
humor,  which  was  keen,  spontaneous,  irresisti- 
ble. But,  on  this  night  in  the  death  chamber, 
under  the  spell  which  the  proximity  of  death 
always  inspires,  the  watchers  were  seized  with 
mild  consternation  when  the  dying  man  re- 
quested that  someone  sing  one  of  the  old  songs. 

There  was  an  awkward  pause,  a  looking 
from  one  to  another  and  then  Lawyer  Lake, 
straightening  up,  sang  that  old  hymn  dear  to 
the  heart  of  the  pioneer — 

"On  the  other  side  of  Jordan,  in  the  sweet  fields  of  Eden, 
There  is  rest  for  the  weary;  there  is  rest  for  you." 

It  was  as  if  he  had  felt  the  urge  of  some 
sudden  inspiration,  for  he  sang  it  with  such  a 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 223 

depth  of  feeling  and  sympathetic  tenderness, 
investing  the  old  melody  with  such  a  quality 
of  simple  sweetness,  that  every  one  of  that  little 
company  was  moved  to  acknowledge  its  subtle 
appeal  with  tears  that  coursed  freely  down 
their  cheeks. 

In  the  gray  dawn  of  that  morning,  as  the 
watchers  passed  out  of  the  little  room,  one  by 
one  they  looked  upon  him  whom  death  had 
touched  after  many  months  of  weariness  and 
suffering  and,  behold,  the  features  of  the  gam- 
bler, now  strangely  white  and  composed, 
showed  no  trace  either  of  weariness  or  pain; 
only  an  expression  of  profound  peace,  as 
though  the  angel  in  that  last  great  moment  may 
have  whispered:  "His  peace  I  give  unto  you." 
And  in  the  days  that  followed,  when  weeks 
and  months  had  slipped  away  into  the  stream 
of  forgetfulness,  there  were  times  when,  in  the 
recollection  of  the  watchers  at  that  bedside, 
there  arose  visions  of  a  gentle,  gray-haired 
man  of  God,  who  spoke  comfortingly,  and  of 
still  another  who  sang  most  sweetly  the  while 
tears  coursed  down  his  cheeks.  And  at  such 
times  the  subconscious  being  thrilled  gently 
with  the  accents  of  an  old,  old  melody,  strange- 
ly sweet,    like    when  idle    ringers    strum    the 


224 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

strings  of  a  guitar,  awakening  familiar  strains 
as  if  by  chance. 

After  many,  many  years,  though  he  who 
sang  so  sweetly  has  long  since  gone  to  his  re- 
ward, yet,  there  is  one — the  one  who  gave  me 
the  story — to  whom  the  insistent  sweetness  of 
that  old  melody  brings  back  the  night,  and  the 
hour,  and  all  that  happened  therein,  and  awak- 
ens a  feeling  akin  to  tears  when  memory  for- 
mulates the  words  of  that  stately  old  hymn : 

"On  the  other  side  of  Jordan,  in  the  sweet  fields  of  Eden, 
There  is  rest  for  the  weary;  there  is  rest  for  you." 

Outliving  a  Shroud 

The  spring  of  1846  was  long  remembered 
by  the  settlers  who  lived  along  the  Kankakee 
and  on  the  edge  of  that  vast,  unoccupied  coun- 
try which  stretched  interminably  to  the  south 
and  west,  called  "Grand  Prairie,"  for  that  was 
the  year  of  the  rains.  Rain  fell  almost  con- 
stantly until  sloughs,  and  swales,  and  every  de- 
pression in  the  prairie  wilderness,  were  filled 
to  overflowing  with  water.  There  was  no 
drainage  in  that  day,  and  water  thus  deposited, 
laid  there  and,  under  the  rays  of  the  hot,  sum- 
mer sun,  became  stagnant  and  foul  with  vege- 
tation that  steamed  and  rotted,  filling  the  air 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 225 

with  noisome,  reeking  vapors  that  became  a 
serious  menace  to  the  health  of  the  wilderness 
dweller.  It  was  in  August  of  that  year,  sev- 
enty-six years  ago,  that  James  Powell  and  his 
son,  Elias,  the  latter,  then  ten  years  of  age, 
while  engaged  in  threshing  grain  on  the  farm 
in  Limestone,  were  taken  suddenly  ill.  It  was 
with  great  difficulty  that  they  made  their  way 
home.  The  nearest  physician  was  Dr.  Russell, 
located  at  Bourbonnais,  and  he  was  immedi- 
ately summoned.  On  his  arrival  he  found  the 
boy  Elias,  unconscious,  and  the  father  with  a 
raging  fever  and  delirious.  The  malady  was 
diagnosed  as  bilious  fever  aggravated  by  ma- 
larial conditions.  The  following  day  the  fa- 
ther lapsed  into  unconsciousness  and  continued 
in  that  condition  for  nine  days,  or  until  the 
12th  of  August,  when  he  died. 

The  boy  Elias,  in  the  meantime  unconscious, 
had  been  removed  to  the  loft  of  the  log  house. 
His  case  was  looked  upon  as  hopeless,  even 
as  that  of  his  father.  On  the  afternoon  of  the 
day  his  father  was  buried,  he  opened  his  eyes, 
and  for  the  first  time  recognized  his  surround- 
ings, and  apparently  the  fever  had  left  him  as 
suddenly  as  it  had  come  upon  him.  Through 
the  open  window  in  the  cabin  loft  he  chanced 


226 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

to  see,  in  the  road,  the  slowly  moving  funeral 
cortege  returning  from  the  cemetery  where  the 
remains  of  his  father  had  been  laid  away,  and, 
turning  to  the  lady  who  sat  by  his  bedside,  he 
recognized  Mrs.  Hawker,  a  neighbor,  of  whom 
he  asked  what  it  all  meant.  She  told  him  of 
his  father's  death,  and  that  the  procession  he 
beheld  on  the  road  were  those  returning  from 
the  burial  over  in  the  Hawkins  cemetery.  Lit- 
tle by  little  she  told  him  of  the  days  he  had  laid 
unconscious  and  how  hopeless  seemed  the  pros- 
pect of  his  recovery.  From  that  time  on,  how- 
ever, he  gained  rapidly  in  strength  and,  some 
weeks  later,  when  he  was  quite  himself  again, 
his  mother  showed  him  the  shroud  that  had 
been  prepared  for  him  by  neighborly  hands  to 
meet  the  great  emergency  which  seemed  in- 
evitable and  which  he  had  so  miraculously  es- 
caped. In  that  far-off  day,  seventy-five  years 
ago,  the  lack  of  the  funeral  director  was  sup- 
plied by  the  kindly  ministrations  of  neighbors. 
It  was  the  custom  of  that  day,  when  preparing 
a  body  for  burial,  to  envelop  it  in  a  shroud  of 
white  or  black.  The  messenger  dispatched  to 
Wilmington  to  procure  the  material  for  the 
father's  shroud  was  admonished  to  bring 
enough  white  muslin  to  be  used  in  making  a 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 227 

shroud  for  the  boy  Elias,  for  our  old-time 
friends  who  lived  so  far  from  the  source  of 
things,  were  thus  obliged  to  submerge  senti- 
ment and  make  use  of  opportunity. 

This  gruesome  funereal  relic  was  kept  by 
Mr.  Powell  for  many,  many  years,  in  fact,  for 
more  than  a  half  century,  when  it,  too,  along 
with  those  who  fashioned  it,  passed  on  and  into 
the  land  of  forgetfulness.  Just  what  the  end 
of  the  shroud  was,  he  cannot  clearly  recall  to- 
day. After  seventy-six  years,  however,  mem- 
ory now  and  then  reverts  to  the  incident  of  the 
shroud,  and  at  such  times  the  mind  dwells  on 
the  mystery  of  fate  which,  like  a  thread,  is 
strangely  and  inextricably  mingled  in  the  web 
of  life.  And  life  thus  hedged  about  by  that 
strange,  immutable  influence,  smiles  now  and 
then  at  thought  of  the  grim  reaper,  as  though 
they  might  be  on  terms  of  mutual  understand- 
ing, and  even  laughs  at  the  shortened  vision  of 
those  who  labored  sorrowfully  and  tearfully 
the  while  they  made  a  shroud,  yet  took  no  note 
of  fate. 

"Myself  when  young  did  eagerly  frequent 
Doctor  and  saint,  and  heard  great  argument ; 
About  it  and  about:  but  evermore 
Came  out  by  the  same  door  wherein  I  went." 


LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 


In  the  Good  Old  Days  of  the  Ox  Team 

How  would  you  like  to  go  back  to  the  days 
of  driving  oxen  over  raw  prairie  trails,  instead 
of  roads,  where  the  distance  from  home  to  your 
best  market  ranged  anywhere  from  ten  to  forty 
miles,  and  when  a  ten-dollar  bill,  given  in  ex- 
change for  a  load  of  oats,  was  a  thing  impres- 
sive in  its  enormity  to  the  youthful  mind  ?  And, 
speaking  of  oxen,  the  motive  power  of  old  pio- 
neer days,  how  would  you  ever  hook  up  a  yoke 
of  oxen,  anyway  ?  You  young  men  who  are  so 
expert  when  it  comes  to  starting  an  automo- 
bile, what  would  you  do  were  it  left  to  you  to 
start  a  pair  of  bulls,  once  you  got  them  hooked 
up?  Would  you  talk  to  them,  or  beat  them  on 
the  head,  or  on  the  back  ?  We  ask  the  question 
because  it  seems  pertinent  to  the  subject  of 
"bulls"  in  general,  and  more  particularly  when 
one  tries  to  drive  them.  And  stopping  them, 
once  you  got  them  in  motion,  is  another  deli- 
cate and  tactful  operation  requiring  an  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  slow-moving  mental  process- 
es of  the  ox,  especially  if  it  is  meant  to  stop  at 
some  certain,  particular  spot,  in  which  event 
stopping  operations  must  be  timed  in  advance, 
something  like  the  time-fuse  on  a  bomb. 

Our  well  known  townsman,  Mr.  Elias  Pow- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE      329 

ell,  in  his  youthful  pioneer  days  down  on  the 
Powell  farm,  on  the  south  bank  of  the  Kan- 
kakee river,  was  an  expert  handler  of  oxen 
while  still  but  a  slip  of  a  boy.  The  death  of 
his  father  shifted  the  cares  and  responsibilities 
of  man's  estate  onto  his  youthful  shoulders,  and 
it  was  while  making  a  trip  to  old  Middleport, 
near  Watseka,  Iroquois  county,  where,  in  that 
day,  the  probate  court  was  located,  that  he  fell 
in  with  one  Bissette,  a  Frenchman,  living  on 
the  old  Belgian  farm  in  Chebanse  township, 
who  was  the  owner  of  a  fine  yoke  of  rangy, 
black  oxen.  How  the  youthful  Powell  cov- 
eted that  big  pair  of  fast-walking  blacks !  But 
the  price!  Ah,  yes,  the  price — that  was  a  real 
obstacle;  he  asked  fifty  dollars  for  them  and 
no  argument  would  avail  to  make  him  throw 
off  a  cent.  And  when  you  want  a  thing,  and 
the  other  fellow  is  meaner  than  pusley  and 
won't  concede  a  thing,  and  the  deal  languishes, 
it  is  then  the  situation  is  summed  up  in  the  po- 
lite, diplomatic  language  of  today,  as  an  "im- 
passe." But  in  the  vernacular  of  the  woods  of 
the  time  of  Mr.  Powell,  seventy-five  years  ago, 
it  was  "just  hell,"  that's  all. 

Well,  to  make  a  long  story  short,  Mr.  Pow- 
ell, with  the  help  of  his  mother,  succeeded  fin- 


LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 


ally  in  landing  the  oxen,  and  Bissette  got  his 
price.  He  tells  us  that  for  instinct,  intelligence 
and  all-around  sagacity,  as  applied  to  the  prac- 
tical affairs  of  that  far-off  day,  these  oxen  had 
the  average  high- school  graduate  of  the  pres- 
ent day  backed  up  in  a  corner  and  hanging  over 
the  ropes  weak  and  groggy.  We  have  read 
with  much  interest  the  writings  of  that  emi- 
nent Frenchman,  J.  H.  Fabre,  on  the  instinct 
quality  of  insects  and  animals,  only  to  have  his 
observations  fully  corroborated  in  detail  by 
the  practical  observations  of  Mr.  Powell. 

Along  in  the  late  forties,  long  before  the 
coming  of  the  Illinois  Central  railroad,  oxen 
were  quite  generally  used  by  the  settlers  on 
the  prairie.  The  market  for  most  of  the  pro- 
duce of  the  Powell  farm  was  at  Joliet,  some 
thirty  miles  away.  The  grain  was  sacked  and 
loaded  onto  the  wagon  the  night  before,  and, 
in  the  early  morning,  while  yet  the  stars  shone 
brightly  and  the  moon  hung  low  in  the  west, 
this  crack  ox  team  of  the  Powell  ranch  was 
hitched  to  the  load,  with  the  boy  Elias  in 
charge.  A  short  distance  from  the  home  the 
Kankakee  river  was  crossed  at  what  was  known 
the  country  over  as  "Reed's  Ford,"  situated 
near   the   present  Warner   bridge,   and   once 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 231 

across  the  river  the  trail  led  off  into  an  intermi- 
nable expanse  of  prairie  to  the  north.  Young 
Powell  was  a  boy  just  like  any  other  boy,  and 
the  expedients  he  made  use  of  to  relieve  the 
tedium  of  slow-going  travel  were  pretty  much 
the  same  as  any  boy  would  have  made  use  of. 
He  would  talk  to  the  cattle  in  an  encouraging 
vein;  flick  a  horse-fly  or  "green-head"  off  their 
necks  with  the  long  lash  of  his  whip  (and  he 
was  an  expert  in  this,  too)  ;  take  note  for  a 
while  of  the  doings  of  the  varied  folk  who  in- 
habited the  prairie,  imitating  the  meadow-larks 
and  breaking  up  many  a  confab  of  red- winged 
blackbirds  with  his  shrill  whistle.  Then,  as  the 
day  wore  on,  and  the  sun  grew  hotter,  he  was 
conscious  of  a  growing  drowsiness,  made  all 
the  more  acute  by  the  vast,  undulating  ex- 
panses of  the  prairie  and  the  steady  thud  of  the 
wagon  wheels  on  the  trail  until,  at  last,  this 
human  atom  would  topple  over  on  the  sacks 
sound  asleep — dead  to  the  world— while  the 
ox  team  plodded  on  and  seemed  scarcely  to 
move. 

With  an  early  morning  start  he  was  often 
enabled  to  make  Joliet  by  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon.  On  many  occasions,  after  unload- 
ing the  grain,  he  would  head  the  oxen  on  the 


LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 


back  trail.  On  the  homeward-bound  trips  he 
invariably  laid  down  in  the  wagon  bed,  and 
such  was  the  susceptibility  of  youth  and  the 
abounding  health  of  life  in  the  open,  on  the 
prairies,  that  he  slept  soundly  and  undisturbed 
until  the  oxen  reached  the  hill  going  down  to 
the  river.  At  this  juncture  he  always  roused 
up  as  the  cattle  wended  their  way  down  hill  to 
the  ford.  The  fording  place  was  a  sort  of  cres- 
cent of  limestone  in  the  bed  of  the  river  with 
deep  water  on  either  side  of  it,  but  such  was  the 
unerring  instinct  of  the  animals  that,  whenever 
left  to  their  own  resources,  they  invariably 
sought  out  the  right  place  and  took  themselves 
and  the  wagon  safely  over.  Mr.  Powell  says 
that  on  many  occasions  he  would  get  up  and 
watch  them,  never  saying  a  word,  as  they  made 
their  way  slowly  but  surely  over  the  curve  of 
the  ford  and  up  the  bank  of  the  opposite  side. 
Generally,  he  says,  he  laid  down  in  the  wagon 
again  and  took  up  his  slumber  where  he  left 
off,  when  the  fording  of  the  river  had  been  ac- 
complished, and  often  the  oxen,  after  reaching 
the  neighborhod  of  the  old  Nichols  school 
house,  sensing  their  proximity  to  home,  would 
stop  and  feed  in  the  dead  of  night  and  by  the 
light  of  the  stars. 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE      233 

And  young  Mr.  Powell,  instead  of  spending 
a  portion  of  the  ten-dollars  he  got  for  a  load  of 
oats,  at  eighteen  to  twenty  cents  a  bushel,  for  a 
meal  at  some  cafe,  assuaged  the  pangs  of  hun- 
ger by  absorbing  large  sandwiches  of  Johnny- 
cake  whose  interiors  were  decorated  with  gen- 
erous slices  of  salt-pork,  put  up  at  home.  These 
he  washed  down  with  water  gotten  from  some 
slough,  or  by  means  of  a  hollow  reed  which  he 
thrust  into  some  crawfish  hole  on  the  prairie, 
just  like  a  real  "Sucker,"  one  to  the  manor 
born.  People  were  not  so  fussy  in  those  days ; 
in  fact,  it  was  so  long  before  the  germ  theory 
had  been  evolved  that  Mr.  Powell,  thanks  to 
the  simple  lif e,  got  such  a  fine  start  on  the  way 
to  health  that  he  has  been  enabled  to  maintain 
it  even  to  this  day.  Wheat  in  that  day  used  to 
sell  for  35  cents  a  bushel,  and  sometimes,  in 
order  to  get  two  cents  per  bushel  additional, 
he  would  haul  the  grain  five  miles  farther,  to 
Lockport.  A  good,  prime  steer  in  that  day 
used  to  bring  ten  dollars,  but  it  had  to  be  a 
good  one,  and  about  the  scarcest  thing  in  the 
pioneer  universe  of  that  day  was  money  that 
could  be  depended  upon  to  be  worth  anywhere 
near  one  hundred  cents  on  the  dollar  after  you 
once  got  home  with  it. 


234 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

Hubbard's  Fight  with  Chief  "Yellow  Head" 

The  old  Pottawattomie  chieftain,  "Min-e- 
mau-ung,"  (Yellow  Hair)  or  Yellow  Head,  as 
he  was  more  generally  known,  and  for  whom 
the  north-easternmost  township  of  Kankakee 
county  was  named,  had  his  village  at  Yellow 
Head  Point  on  what  is  now  the  Perry  Stratton 
farm.  This  land,  a  section  in  extent,  was 
awarded  to  him  by  the  treaty  of  1832,  ratified 
January  21,  1833.  Such  information  as  comes 
down  to  us  in  this  day  regarding  the  old  chief, 
confirms  the  impression  that  he  was  a  more 
or  less  turbulent  character  and  when  under  the 
influence  of  the  white  man's  "fire-water,"  a 
fiend  incarnate.  The  trader,  Gurdon  S.  Hub- 
bard, who  knew  the  Indians  of  this  section 
well,  has  recorded  in  his  memoirs,  the  details  of 
a  personal  encounter  he  had  with  "Min-e-mau- 
ung"  at  his  trading  post  on  the  Iroquois.  This 
fight  took  place  in  the  early  spring  of  1827, 
while  Hubbard  was  convalescing  from  a  se- 
vere attack  of  rheumatism  contracted  while 
hunting  at  Beaver  Lake,  only  a  few  weeks  be- 
fore.   His  account  of  the  battle  follows. 

"About  six  weeks  after  my  attack  of  rheu- 
matism I  prepared  to  abandon  my  trading 
house  on  the  Iroquois  and  remove  to  Chicago, 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 235 

but  was  compelled  to  wait  for  a  band  of  In- 
dians who  owed  me  for  goods  and  who  had  not 
yet  returned  from  their  winter  hunting 
grounds.  While  thus  delayed  two  white  men 
appeared  with  a  pair  of  horses  and  a  wagon 
loaded  with  corn,  corn  meal,  and  whiskey. 
Hearing  that  I  was  waiting  for  the  Indians, 
they  decided  to  wait  also  and  trade  them  whis- 
key for  furs,  blankets,  or  anything  else  of  value 
which  they  might  possess.  I  was  unable  to 
walk  without  crutches,  and  scarcely  able  to 
leave  my  bunk.  I  knew  that  if  the  Indians 
were  allowed  to  have  the  whiskey,  trouble 
would  ensue,  so  I  sent  Noel  LeVasseur  to  their 
camp  to  ask  one  of  the  men  to  come  and  see 
me.  He  soon  came  and  I  told  him  I  did  not 
like  to  have  him  sell  whiskey  to  the  Indians, 
and  that  he  had  no  right  to  do  so,  as  he  had  no 
license  from  the  government  to  trade  with  the 
Indians.  He  replied  that  he  had  as  much 
right  as  I  had,  and  that  he  should  do  as  he 
pleased.  I  warned  him  that  the  Indians  would 
become  drunk,  and  then  would  rob,  and  proba- 
bly murder  them,  but  he  refused  to  listen  to  me, 
and  returned  to  his  camp. 

I  immediately  stationed  men  to  watch  for  the 
coming  of  the  Indians,  and  was  soon  informed 


LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 


that  Yellow  Head  and  his  band  were  at  hand. 
When  they  arrived  I  had  a  large  kettle  of  corn 
soup  and  other  food  ready  for  them,  and  as 
soon  as  they  had  eaten,  I  took  them  into  my 
council  room,  traded  for  their  furs,  collected 
what  they  owed  me,  and  after  giving  each  one  a 
gill  of  whiskey,  dismissed  them  before  the 
strangers  had  learned  of  their  arrival.  The 
Indians  soon  discovered  the  camp  of  the  two 
white  men  and  commenced  trading  their  blan- 
kets and  the  goods  they  had  just  bought  of  me 
for  whiskey.  I  sent  word  to  the  men  to  leave, 
and  told  them  that  as  soon  as  the  Indians  got 
drunk  they  would  rob  them  of  all  they  had  sold 
them,  but  they  would  not  heed  the  message." 

"As  I  had  anticipated,  the  Indians  soon  be- 
came drunk,  and  angry  because  they  had  noth- 
ing more  to  trade  and  could  get  no  more  to 
drink,  and  began  to  take  back  their  blankets 
and  goods.  The  white  men  became  very  much 
frightened,  and  came  to  me  for  assistance.  I 
refused  to  interfere,  but  sent  Vasseur  and 
Jacques  Jombeau  to  empty  the  remaining  kegs 
of  whiskey,  which  they  did.  The  Indians 
scooped  up  the  whiskey  with  their  hands,  and 
became  more  drunk  and  more  enraged,  and 
finally  assaulted  Jombeau,  and  stabbed  him 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 267 

in  the  back,  though  not  severely.  The  In- 
dians got  back  all  they  had  sold,  and  the  white 
men  made  their  escape  with  the  horses  and 
wagon.  The  disturbance  lasted  all  night.  The 
Indians  came  to  my  house  and  demanded  more 
whiskey,  and  were,  of  course,  refused.  They 
all  laid  down  and  fell  asleep,  except  Yellow 
Head  (a  brother-in-law  of  Billy  Caldwell), 
who  came  several  times  to  me,  coaxing  and 
threatening  me,  but  to  no  purpose.  He  finally 
said  he  would  go  to  my  store,  break  in  and 
take  as  much  as  he  wanted.  I  said:  "Very 
well,  go  on,"  and  he  started  for  the  storehouse. 
I  got  up  from  my  bunk,  took  my  rifle  and 
thrust  it  through  the  paper  which  served  as 
window  glass,  and  as  he  reached  the  store,  I 
"drew  a  bead  on  him,"  and  called  to  him  to  go 
on  and  break  in.  He  changed  his  mind  and 
walked  away. 

"I  again  lay  down,  and  in  a  few  minutes  he 
returned  very  angry,  and  walking  up  to  my 
bunk,  drew  a  knife  and  attempted  to  stab  me ; 
but  I  was  too  quick  for  him,  seized  his  arm, 
and,  lame  as  I  was,  jumped  up,  took  the  knife 
away,  and  pushed  him  out  of  the  door,  where 
I  found  some  squaws  who  had  been  attracted 
by  the  disturbance.     Outside  the  door  was  a 


238 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

large  mortar  with  a  heavy  iron-wood  pestle, 
which  I  used  for  pounding  corn.  I  gave  the 
knife  to  a  squaw,  and  leaned  on  one  crutch 
against  the  mortar  with  my  hand  on  the  pestle. 
Yellow  Head  felt  in  his  leggins  for  another 
knife,  when  I  said  to  the  squaw,  "Give  the  old 
woman  a  knife."  She  did  so,  but  Yellow 
Head,  looking  at  the  pestle  upon  which  my 
hand  rested,  and  doubtless  remembering  the 
sudden  manner  in  which  I  had  before  c  is- 
armed  him,  deemed  'discretion  the  better  part 
of  valor,'  and  silently  departed  with  the 
squaws." 

"The  day  following  I  started  for  Chicago, 
leaving  one  of  my  men,  Dominick  Bray,  by 
name,  in  charge  of  the  place,  and  to  make  a 
garden  and  plant  vegetables  for  the  following 
winter's  use.  Two  or  three  days  after  my  ar- 
rival in  Chicago,  Bray  appeared  with  the  story 
that  Yellow  Head  had  returned  for  revenge. 
Bray  was  lying  in  his  bunk,  when  Yellow  Head 
and  two  other  Indians  entered  the  house  and 
leveled  their  rifles  at  him.  He  jumped  up  and 
ran  by  them  out  of  the  door,  pulling  it  shut 
just  as  they  fired,  and  the  bullets  struck  the 
door  through  which  he  had  escaped.  Bray  ran 
into  the  woods,  caught  a  horse  and  left  for 


"WATCH-E-KEE" 

THE    POTTAWATTOMIE    INDIAN    PRINCESS,    WHOSE    FATHER 

(NAME   UNKNOWN),   WAS   CHIEF   OF   THE   KANKAKEE   BAND, 

AND  WHOSE  MOTHER  "MON-OS-KA,"  WAS  OF  THE  TRTBE  OF 

THE  "ILLINI,"  OR  ILLINOIS. 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 239 

Chicago.  The  Indians  pillaged  the  house  and 
store,  taking  everything  that  had  been  left. 
Other  Indians  warned  me  that  Yellow  Head 
intended  to  kill  me  should  he  ever  meet  me 
again,  but  before  my  return  to  the  Iroquois, 
he  was  killed  in  a  drunken  fight,  and  thus  I  was 
saved  from  further  trouble  from  him." 

"Watch-e-kee's"  Prophecy 
Away  back  in  the  days  when  the  great  na- 
tion of  the  Pottawattomie  held  peaceful  sway 
in  the  beautiful  vale  of  the  Kankakee,  some- 
where about  the  year  1810,  historical  tradition 
records  that,  in  one  of  the  populous  villages, 
situated  on  the  Iroquois  river,  on  the  present 
site  of  the  town  of  that  name,  was  born 
"Watch-e-kee,"  child  of  the  Evening  Star. 
Nothing  is  known  definitely  as  to  her  ancestry 
except  that  she  was  a  niece  of  the  powerful 
chief  Tam-a-een.  The  old  squaws  of  the  vil- 
lage, who  noted  the  sign  of  the  star  under  which 
she  was  born,  noted  also  that  its  brightness  was 
dimmed,  momentarily  by  a  gauzy,  veil-like 
cloud,  and  that  as  it  dropped  lower  and  lower 
in  the  west  lo!  it  was  enveloped  completely  in 
the  increasing  blackness  of  a  cloud  that  seemed 
to  rise  up  out  of  the  earth  to  meet  it.     The  In- 


240 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

dian  mind  is  strangely  influenced  by  these 
heavenly  portents  and,  on  many  a  day  there- 
after, as  they  gossiped  in  the  shade  of  the  wig- 
wams, or  while  they  worked  in  the  fields  of 
maize,  great  was  the  speculation  and  many  and 
varied  the  opinions,  concerning  the  future  of 
the  tiny  stranger  that  had  come  to  abide  in  the 
village  that  nestled  under  the  broad,  spreading 
canopy  of  giant  oaks  and  walnuts  on  the  banks 
of  the  placid  Iroquois. 

Womankind's  maternal  instinct  serves  as  a 
spur  both  to  sympathy  and  curiosity,  and  the 
maidens  and  young  women  of  the  village,  no 
less  interested  than  the  squaws,  sought  out  an 
ancient,  wrinkled  hag,  on  whom,  it  was  said, 
more  than  one  hundred  winters  with  their  frosts 
and  snows  had  fallen,  and  whom  the  Great 
Spirit  had  endowed  with  powers  of  divination, 
and  to  her  they  put  the  question,  "What  of 
Watch-e-kee?"  The  answer  was  even  more  of 
an  enigma.  "Watch-e-kee,"  said  she,  "is  the 
ward  of  the  Great  Spirit;  her  path  lies  not  in 
the  pathway  of  our  people;  to  her  shall  fall 
much  of  joy  and  much  of  sorrow."  And  when 
they  went  away,  these  young  people  exclaimed 
lightly:  "Who  is  it,  indeed,  that  is  not  the 
ward  of  the  Great  Spirit?"    "Who  knows  the 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 241 

pathway  her  feet  shall  tread?  And  who  is 
there  that  has  not  much  of  joy  and  something 
of  sorrow?"  Meanwhile  the  mother,  all  un- 
mindful of  the  fateful  words  of  the  sorceress, 
held  the  babe,  Watch-e-kee,  close  to  her  breast 
and,  as  she  rocked  gently  to  and  fro,  crooned  an 
ancient  lullaby  of  the  Pottawattomie,  old  as 
time  itself,  which  thrilled  nevertheless,  with 
mother  love,  weird  and  unintelligible  though 
it  may  have  been  to  you  and  me. 

In  the  days  that  followed,  from  an  adjacent 
slough,  the  mother  of  Watch-e-kee  procured 
willows  of  which  she  wove  with  much  skill  a 
curious  platform-like  basket,  and  this  she  lined 
with  soft  mosses  gathered  from  the  nearby 
river  bank  of  the  Iroquois,  and  made  for  her  a 
nest  soft  and  warm  and  snug.  And  patiently 
she  wove  into  the  fabric  of  the  willow  small, 
fibrous  roots  of  certain  wild  plants,  colored 
red,  by  the  juice  of  the  poke-berry,  of  black 
and  yellow,  stained  by  the  shell  of  the  black 
walnut  or  the  butternut,  and  such  was  the  cun- 
ning love  gave  her  nimble  fingers  that,  at  last, 
the  rude  willow  basket  was  transformed  into  a 
thing  of  beauteous  design.  Tufts  of  the  bril- 
liant plumage  of  the  blue  jay,  the  wild  turkey- 
cock  and  the  prairie  hen  fluttered  here  and 


242 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

there,  adding  a  touch  of  barbaric  splendor  to 
Watch-e-kee's  primitive  cradle  and,  in  addition 
thereto,  was  a  loop  of  stout  buckskin  by  which 
the  basket  was  carried  on  the  back  or  swung 
from  the  lodge  poles,  while  its  tiny  occupant 
slept,  or  gazed  in  listless,  sleepy-eyed  indiffer- 
ence, on  the  great  world  about  it. 

In  the  half  light  of  the  wigwam,  often  the 
mother  knelt  before  this  basket  that  held  her 
babe,  devoutly,  as  a  pilgrim  kneels  before  her 
shrine,  and  playfully  she  touched  the  placid 
face  of  the  infant  with  her  finger-tips  and,  as 
it  smiled,  so  she  smiled  in  return  and  talked  to 
her  gently  and  caressingly  in  that  language 
which  is  love,  which  only  a  mother  speaks  and 
which  only  the  babe  understands.  At  other 
times,  as  the  days  passed  by,  the  father  of 
Watch-e-kee  and  the  uncle,  old  chief  Tam-a- 
een — Tam-a-een,  which,  in  the  Pottawattomie 
tongue,  means  "The  Strawberry,"  would  enter 
the  lodge  where  the  infant  rested  in  her  primi- 
tive basket  and,  squatting  on  their  haunches, 
Indian  fashion,  lighted  their  calumets,  filled 
with  a  mixture  of  kinnikinic,  made  of  the  leaves 
of  the  sumac  and  the  dried  bark  of  the  red  wil- 
low, and  as  they  smoked  sedately  they  took 
silent    inventory    of    Watch-e-kee's    youthful 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 243 

charms,  for  charming  she  was,  far  in  excess  of 
the  common  lot  of  babes,  and  every  scrap  of 
gossip  and  tradition  that  has  come  down  to  us 
in  this  day  bears  testimony  to  the  fact.  And 
these  two  as  they  smoked,  talked  concerning 
her,  and  if  you  could  have  heard  and  under- 
stood, there  was,  in  this  talk,  a  note  of  mild 
regret  voiced  by  both,  the  father  and  the  uncle, 
that  she  had  not  been  a  brave  instead  of  a  squaw 
— a  Prince  instead  of  a  Princess — for  such  is 
the  universal  desire  of  men  for  their  first-born, 
all  the  world  over,  be  they  saint  or  savage.  And 
Watch-e-kee,  blinking  lazily,  unthinking  and 
unknowing,  looked  first  on  the  kindly,  benign 
faces  before  her,  and  then  in  wonder  on  the 
stately,  waving  plumes  of  the  eagle  feathers  in 
their  war-bonnets,  which  were  very  splendid 
indeed,  and  she,  in  turn,  might  have  felt  some- 
thing of  the  sharp  pang  of  regret  voiced  by  her 
elders  could  she  have  known  that  the  glory  of 
the  eagle-feather  head-dress  was  not  for  her. 

As  the  years  passed  on  Watch-e-kee  fulfilled 
the  promise  of  her  youth  and,  as  she  grew,  her 
beauty  became  as  radiant  and  luminous  as  the 
Evening  Star  itself.  Besides,  there  were 
graces  of  mind,  and  a  charm  of  manner,  that 
readily  distinguished  her  as  a  personality  sepa- 


244 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

rate  and  apart  from  her  young  associates.  At 
the  age  of  thirteen  years  she  was  sought  by 
many  a  love-lorn  youth  who,  in  deference  to 
savage  custom,  placed  before  the  doorway  of 
her  lodge  offerings  of  game,  of  fish,  or  fruits 
gathered  from  the  wild,  and  who  then  waited, 
near  by,  in  stolid  expectancy,  for  some  sign  of 
her  favor.  But  the  efforts  of  the  lovers  proved 
fruitless  and  unavailing,  and  one  after  another 
they  retired  amid  the  added  discomfiture  of 
twits  and  taunts  from  marriageable  young 
women  who,  recalling  the  words  of  the  old  sor- 
ceress, exclaimed,  "Watch-e-kee  is  not  for  such 
as  you!  Know  you  not  that  only  the  Moon 
may  look  upon  the  Evening  Star?" 

If  one  were  to  ask  why  all  this  detail  con- 
cerning Watch-e-kee  when  facts  so  vital  have, 
apparently,  been  lost  to  us  forever  and  aye, 
we  can  only  say  that,  having  visited  the  old 
site  of  Tam-a-een's  village,  and  walked  the 
ancient  trails  of  the  redman  that  lead  down 
to  the  river's  side,  amid  trees  hoary  and  ven- 
erable, whose  wide  extended  boughs  seem  as 
though  spread  in  kindly  benediction  for  memo- 
ries of  a  departed  race,  then  and  there,  some- 
how, came  the  story,  told  by  voices  out  of  the 
past,  borne  on  the  breath  of  the  winds. 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 245 

II 

In  the  year  1818  the  great  American  Fur 
Company  came  into  the  country  of  the  Iroquois, 
and  four  years  later  came  the  redoubtable  fig- 
ure, Gurdon  S.  Hubbard,  who  was  destined  to 
loom  so  prominently  in  the  affairs  of  the  new 
country.  He  was  stationed  at  the  post  at  old 
Middleport,  on  the  Iroquois,  where  he  re- 
mained for  several  years.  In  1825,  having 
been  accorded  certain  trading  privileges  in  the 
new  country,  he,  with  Noel  LeVasseur,  re- 
moved to  a  point  near  Tam-a-een's  village, 
where  today  is  located  the  village  of  Iroquois. 
He,  apparently,  soon  realized  that  the  success 
of  his  enterprise  depended  largely  upon  the 
friendship  and  good  will  of  his  dusky  neigh- 
bors and  to  secure  and  maintain  this  desired 
friendship  he  bent  every  effort.  The  old  chief, 
Tam-a-een,  evidently  shared  the  same  view, 
but  he  proceeded  in  a  more  practical  and  mat- 
ter-of-fact way.  Tam-a-een  presented  his  own 
daughter  to  Hubbard,  after  the  Indian  man- 
ner, for  a  wife.  It  was  a  trying  time,  a  deli- 
cate emergency  for  Hubbard,  who,  though  not 
averse  to  taking  an  Indian  wife,  held,  never- 
theless, to  the  right  to  make  a  choice  for  him- 
self.    By  dint  of  careful  diplomacy  and  the 


246 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

bestowing  of  many  presents,  Hubbard  success- 
fully declined  the  offer  of  Chief  Tam-a-een's 
daughter  and  still  preserved  the  old  chief's 
friendship.  Tam-a-een  later  presented  his 
niece,  the  maiden  Watch-e-kee,  who  at  that 
time  was  about  fifteen  years  of  age,  and  Hub- 
bard accepted  her  and  married  her  according 
to  the  Indian  custom.  During  the  two  years  of 
their  wedded  life  she  bore  him  a  daughter,  who 
died,  however,  at  the  age  of  eight  months. 
After  two  years  of  wedded  life  they  separated 
by  mutual  agreement. 

Of  Watch-e-kee,  Hubbard  always  spoke  in 
terms  of  the  highest  commendation  of  her 
steadfastness  and  womanly  qualities.  Concern- 
ing Watch-e-kee's  thoughts  and  feelings  to- 
wards her  erstwhile  spouse  and  their  subsequent 
separation,  no  word  ever  came  from  her.  Hub- 
bard, the  white  man,  hardy,  powerful,  master- 
ful, inspired  his  diminutive  consort  with  a  feel- 
ing of  awe  and  reverence.  To  her  he  was  a 
satellite  to  be  worshiped  from  afar  rather  than 
loved.  And  in  Tam-a-een's  village  there  were 
those  of  the  old  women  who  recalled,  as  is  the 
wont  of  gossips,  the  fateful  words  of  the  aged 
prophetess,  "She  is  the  ward  of  the  Great 
Spirit ;  her  path  lies  not  in  the  pathway  of  our 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 247 

people;  to  her  shall  fall  much  of  joy  and  much 
of  sorrow." 

Ill 

With  the  departure  of  Hubbard,  Noel 
LeVasseur  succeeded  to  the  post  at  Iroquois, 
or  "Bunkum,"  as  it  was  long  known,  and  in 
1828  he  married  Watch-e-kee.  While  some- 
thing of  the  motive  that  actuated  Hubbard  to 
take  to  wife  an  Indian  maiden  may  have  in- 
spired LeVasseur's  act,  yet,  in  the  years  that 
followed,  from  many  sources  has  come  to  us 
abundant  evidence  that  this  union  was  blessed 
with  reciprocal  affection,  deep  and  genuine. 
The  light,  jolly,  volatile  nature  of  the  French- 
man, his  generosity  and  kindliness,  all  so  differ- 
ent from  the  lofty,  austere  manner  of  her  first 
lord,  touched  the  deeply  hidden  springs  of  af- 
fection in  her  wild  nature,  so  that  this  impas- 
sive creature,  roused  by  the  mysterious  power 
of  love,  bloomed  anew  and  put  forth  new 
charms  and  graces. 

In  the  years  from  1828  to  1832  they  lived 
most  happily  and  in  great  content  in  their 
wilderness  cabin,  situated  in  the  stately  wood 
near  to  the  trading-post,  and  over  all  the  vast, 
far-reaching  domain  of  woods  and  river  and 
plain,  LeVasseur  held  full  sway  in  the  matter 


248 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

of  trade,  thanks  to  the  influence  of  Watch-e- 
kee,  whose  people,  the  warriors  of  Tam-a-een's 
village,  exchanged  furs  and  pelts  for  articles 
of  merchandise  at  the  post.  In  these  days  also 
stalwart  sons  came,  who  brought  added  cheer 
to  the  home  in  the  woods,  and  it  was  then,  in 
the  fulness  of  the  great  joy  of  motherhood,  she 
spoke  of  him  endearingly  as  "Her  sun  by  day, 
her  moon  by  night — the  glorious  one — 'Nin-e- 
moo-ka.'  "  And  he,  with  something  of  the 
touch  of  poesy  and  eloquence,  so  characteristic 
at  times  of  the  Indian,  avowed  playfully  that 
"Always  she  would  be  his  'Chee-kee,'  or  Even- 
ing Star,  shining  to  light  his  pathway  in  the 
night." 

By  the  treaty  of  1832  great  changes  were 
inaugurated,  affecting  the  future  of  the  nation 
of  the  Pottawattomies.  By  its  terms  they 
agreed  to  relinquish  the  country  of  the  Illinois 
for  lands  in  western  Iowa,  and  during  the  re- 
moval of  the  various  tribes  LeVasseur,  with 
Hubbard,  became  an  active  agent  of  the  gov- 
ernment in  charge  of  the  work.  For  many 
years  LeVasseur  had  had  in  mind  the  Kanka- 
kee, with  its  beautifully  wooded  shores  and 
opens  spaces  of  country,  and  thither  in  the  year 
1832  he  removed  with  his  family.    Near  the  old 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 249 

"Indian  Trail,"  as  it  swung  in  a  broad  curve 
east  of  Bourbonnais  Grove,  he  built  a  log  cabin 
of  ample  dimensions  and  settled  down,  and  be- 
came Kankakee  county's  first  white  settler. 
Bourbonnais'  main  street  of  today  lies  in  a 
broad  curve  because  of  this  original  first  trail 
that  skirted  the  curve  of  the  timber.  Here  he 
busied  himself  in  acquiring  land,  more  espe- 
cially reservation  lands  lying  along  the  river, 
which,  with  the  help  of  Watch-e-kee,  he  was 
enabled  to  buy  for  a  mere  song.  With  the 
passing  of  the  Indian  he  sensed  the  incoming 
tide  of  immigration  of  the  whites,  and  the  com- 
ing of  the  white  man  meant  development  of  the 
land  and  increasing  values. 

In  the  course  of  time  the  idea  took  posses- 
sion of  him  to  go  back  to  Canada  and  interest 
his  fellow  countrymen  in  this  wonderful  coun- 
try of  the  middle  west.  Fired  by  thoughts  of 
the  project  that  promised  so  much  of  gain,  he 
apparently,  for  the  first  time,  regarded  Watch- 
e-kee  and  the  family  as  a  stumbling-block  and 
hindrance  to  his  plans.  His  ideas  soared  above 
and  beyond  the  patient,  faithful,  loving  mate 
of  the  wilderness,  and  bluntly  he  told  her  so. 
He  offered  her  a  generous  share  of  what  they 
had  accumulated;  he  would  send  her  west  to 


250  LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

her  people  in  charge  of  a  white  man,  who  would 
wed  her  if  she  so  chose,  but  regarding  the  mat- 
ter of  separation  he  was  insistent  and  unyield- 
ing, despite  her  entreaties  and  pleading.  Ac- 
cording to  the  Indian  custom,  she  could  only 
obey. 

Among  the  legends  and  folklore  of  the  early 
French  settlers  in  the  town  of  Bourbonnais, 
some  of  whom  were  brought  there  through  the 
efforts  of  LeVasseur,  is  one  to  the  effect  that, 
on  a  certain  day  in  the  summer  of  1842,  Watch- 
e-kee  and  her  sons,  together  with  a  number  of 
families  of  the  Pottawattomies,  left  what  is 
now  known  as  the  Cooper  woods  for  the  west, 
under  the  guidance  of  Francois  Bergeron. 
The  legend  runs  that  to  LeVasseur,  who  was 
present,  she  spoke  briefly  and  with  much 
earnestness,  and  that  her  words  thrilled  the 
listeners  as  with  the  spirit  of  prophecy.  "Ah, 
Vasseur,  Vasseur,"  said  she,  "the  evil  spirit  has 
touched  you ;  the  song  in  my  heart  is  dead ;  and 
that  which  was  said  of  me  long,  long  ago,  even 
as  a  babe  on  my  mother's  breast,  that  I  should 
know  much  of  joy  and  very  much  of  sorrow, 
has  come  to  be.  Behold  me  in  my  woe ;  behold 
the  misery  you  have  wrought!  But  what  of 
you  ?    The  honors  you  seek  may  come,  but  they 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 251 

will  fade  and  pass  from  you;  wealth,  much 
wealth  you  may  obtain,  but  in  the  end  it  will 
run  through  your  fingers  like  water;  friends 
will  drop  away,  one  by  one,  leaving  you  lonely 
and  distressed ;  and  you  will  dread  the  days  as 
they  dawn,  and  the  darkness  of  night  as  it  falls, 
and  your  heart,  even  as  mine,  shall  know  bit- 
terness; and  the  way  will  be  long — very  long." 
For  many  years  after  her  departure,  as  the 
season  of  spring  drew  near,  Watch-e-kee  and 
her  sons  came  back  and  pitched  their  tepees 
in  the  nearby  woods  of  Bourbonnais  and  re- 
mained throughout  the  summer.  LeVasseur 
in  the  meantime  had  remarried,  and  in  the  years 
that  followed  reared  a  family.  For  them  he 
built  a  pretentious  habitation  of  brick  that  for 
years  occupied  the  northwest  corner  of  the 
present  college  campus.  After  he  had  vacated 
the  old  log  house,  then  Watch-e-kee  on  her 
annual  trips  pitched  her  tepee  in  the  yard,  close 
to  the  old  home.  On  being  asked  why  she  did 
this,  she  replied  simply,  "I  go  where  the  heart 
is."  These  were  the  days  of  LeVasseur's  great- 
est prosperity.  Thoroughly  conversant  with 
the  Indian  character  and  knowing  the  tre- 
mendous potency  of  gifts  judiciously  timed, 
he  was  generous  always  in  his  attitude  towards 


252 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

Watch-e-kee.  In  the  early  sixties  his  two  sons 
by  Watch-e-kee  came  to  Bourbonnais,  ostensi- 
bly to  visit  him,  and  LeVasseur  gave  to  each  of 
them  a  fine  horse,  fully  equipped  with  saddle 
and  bridle,  newly  bought,  and  sent  them  away 
greatly  pleased. 

In  the  year  1863,  Watch-e-kee,  as  if  realiz- 
ing the  hopelessness  of  her  quest,  made  her  last 
visit  to  Bourbonnais.  At  that  time  she  walked 
the  long  trail  that  led  back  to  the  scenes  of  her 
childhood,  on  the  Iroquois,  and  found  possibly 
something  of  melancholy  pleasure  and  satisfac- 
tion in  pursuing  old  trails  amid  familiar  sur- 
roundings of  her  youth  that  spoke  to  her  in  the 
dear  language  of  recollection  of  those  days  of 
her  greatest  happiness.  So  far  as  is  known, 
she  never  visited  these  places  again. 

But  LeVasseur,  having  passed  the  zenith  of 
his  prosperity  and  to  whom  the  evil  day  of 
reverses  had  brought  disaster  and  collapse  of 
his  hopes  and  plans,  LeVasseur  heard  from  her 
again.  In  1869,  Dr.  Benjamin  F.  Uran  and 
Ed.  DeReamer  were  in  the  employ  of  Con- 
gressman Hitt  on  the  cattle  ranges  of  western 
Kansas,  and  during  that  year  they  were  visited 
by  Osborne  VanMeter.  Two  hundred  miles 
northwest   of  Peabody,   Kan.,   there  was   an 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 253 

Indian  reservation,  to  which  many  of  the  Pot- 
tawattomies  of  the  country  of  the  Kankakee 
had  been  transferred,  and  the  three  boys  set 
out  to  visit  them.  Many  of  these  Indians  the 
boys  had  known  intimately  for  years.  Great 
was  the  surprise  and  pleasure  of  these  old-time 
friends  on  meeting  the  boys  again,  and  the  oc- 
casion of  the  visit  was  duly  celebrated  after  the 
Indian  fashion  by  numerous  feasts  and  by  many 
hunting  and  fishing  trips.  Much  to  the  boys' 
surprise,  they  found  that  Watch-e-kee  and  her 
family  were  here.  She  sent  for  them  to  visit 
her  in  her  lodge,  which  they  did,  and  after  the 
first  greetings  she  plied  them  with  questions 
concerning  LeVasseur.  "Was  he  well?  Was 
he  happy  ?  Was  he  prosperous  ?"  together  with 
many  other  questions  in  like  strain.  She  at  that 
time  was  the  wife  of  the  white  man,  Francois 
Bergeron. 

One  year  later,  after  the  boys  had  returned 
from  the  west,  Dr.  Benjamin  F.  Uran,  while 
riding  through  Bourbonnais  one  day,  met  the 
tottering  LeVasseur  on  his  way  from  his  home 
to  the  saloon  across  the  street,  where  he  spent 
his  days  imbibing  much  hard  liquor  while  he 
beguiled  the  hours  at  pinochle,  euchre  or 
seven-up.     There  in  the  street  he  told  him  of 


254 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

having  met  Watch-e-kee  and  of  the  things  she 
asked  concerning  him.  And  it  was  then  that 
the  old  man  paid  tribute  with  tears  to  the 
memory  of  a  good  woman.  "Watch-e-kee  was 
good  woman;  she  was  good  woman,"  tearfully 
affirmed  the  old  man. 

Many  years  ago  the  county-seat  of  Iroquois 
county  did  honor  to  the  Indian  maiden  born  in 
Chief  Tam-a-een's  village  in  1810  by  adopting 
her  name,  which,  in  this  day,  we  know  as  "Wat- 
seka."  Some  years  ago  public-spirited  citizens 
honored  her  memory  still  further  by  having  a 
beautiful  oil  painting,  depicting  Watch-e-kee 
in  the  bloom  of  youth  and  beauty,  prepared  by 
a  competent  artist,  which  was  unveiled  with 
appropriate  ceremonies  in  the  public  library  at 
Watseka.  As  to  LeVasseur,  on  the  old  John 
Wilson  map  of  Iroquois  and  Kankakee  coun- 
ties, published  in  1860,  the  town  of  Bourbon- 
nais  is  designated  as  "Vasseurville."  That  was 
about  the  only  tribute  ever  paid  to  the  memory 
of  the  staunch  old  pioneer  of  the  wilderness, 
and  that  not  for  long. 

We  have  visited  the  old  burial  ground  in  con- 
nection with  Maternity  church  at  Bourbonnais, 
where  LeVasseur's  remains  were  laid  away  in 
1879,  but  found  no  trace  of  his  grave.     Per- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 255 

sistent  inquiry  brought  to  light  the  fact  that 
many  years  ago  his  body  was  removed  to  the 
new  cemetery  out  near  the  Graveline  woods. 
An  old  citizen  with  whom  we  talked  recalled 
that  he  had  viewed  the  remains  of  LeVasseur 
at  the  time  the  body  was  exhumed,  but  there 
were  only  a  few  bones  and  shreds  of  clothing 
and  the  slippers  he  wore  when  the  body  was  laid 
away.  The  body  of  his  son,  Edward,  who  died 
during  the  Civil  War,  was  also  exhumed  and 
placed  in  the  new  grounds.  In  the  new  ceme- 
tery the  government  has  erected  a  stone  to  the 
memory  of  Lieutenant  Edward  LeVasseur. 
In  the  LeVasseur  lot  is  another  stone  which 
may  have  been  the  one  originally  erected  to  the 
memory  of  the  pioneer,  but,  if  so,  it  fails  to  en- 
lighten the  casual  searcher  for  the  grave  of 
Kankakee  county's  first  citizen,  for  time  has 
completely  effaced  the  inscription  as  thor- 
oughly as  one  would  erase  a  name  written  on  a 
slate.  And  in  this  day,  after  the  lapse  of  ninety 
years,  the  sturdy  old  French  pioneer,  trader, 
colonizer  and  man  of  aifairs  generally  has  no 
memorial  and  is  unknown  of  men,  save  in  the 
memory  of  some  white-haired  patriarch,  who 
links  with  the  name  the  direful  prophecy  of  the 
Indian  woman,  " Watch- e-kee." 


256 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

And  what  of  "Watch-e-kee?"  She  lies  in  a 
grave  somewhere  in  the  west — a  grave  forgot- 
ten because  unknown. 

"As  It  Was  in  the  Beginning" 

Mr.  Frank  Chapman  has  placed  in  our  hands 
a  copy  of  Kankakee's  first  directory,  of  which 
he  is  the  fortunate  possessor,  compiled  in  1876 
by  A.  L.  Hennessy  and  printed  at  Peru,  111. 
Accompanying  the  work  is  a  brief  history  of 
Kankakee  City,  written  by  W.  H.  Bristol, 
which  contains  valuable  and  interesting  data 
relating  to  the  city's  early  days  which  cannot 
fail  to  be  of  interest.  Here  are  some  of  the 
things  mentioned: 

"The  city  was  incorporated  in  February, 
1855,  and  on  the  second  Tuesday  of  April  en- 
suing the  first  election  of  city  officers  was  held, 
resulting  as  follows:  C.  R.  Starr,  president; 
Hiram  Whittemore  and  Clark  R.  Strong,  trus- 
tees of  the  first  ward;  Samuel  L.  Knight  and 
Cyrus  B.  Ingraham,  trustees  of  the  second 
ward. 

During  the  session  of  the  Illinois  Legisla- 
ture in  the  winter  of  1850  and  '51  the  charter  of 
the  Illinois  Central  was  granted;  in  the  sum- 
mer of  1851  the  road  was  located ;  in  July,  1853, 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 257 

Mr.  Solon  Knight  received  the  first  freight,  a 
consignment  of  lumber ;  and  in  the  summer  and 
fall  of  that  year  the  railroad  company  erected 
their  freight  house  and  depot. 

In  September,  1853,  Mr.  Samuel  L.  Knight 
was  appointed  by  President  Pierce  the  first 
postmaster  for  the  city,  but  the  name  of  the 
postoffice  was  "Clarksville." 

Elder  James  Gay  in  1848,  A.  M.  Wylie  in 
1849  and  Edward  Chappell  in  1850  were  the 
first  settlers  to  occupy  territory  within  the  pres- 
ent city  limits. 

Charles  R.  Starr  in  July,  1853,  and  Hon. 
Asa  Bartlett  in  September  of  the  same  year 
were  the  first  regularly  settled  attorneys  in 
Kankakee. 

The  first  store  erected  here  was  the  Clark  & 
Roberts  store,  on  the  south  side  of  Court  street, 
where  the  Rondy  book  store  is  now.  It  was 
built  in  the  summer  of  1853. 

Mr.  A.  B.  True  in  the  fall  of  1852  had  the 
credit  of  erecting  the  first  dwelling  house. 
During  the  building  of  the  court  house  in  1854, 
Mr.  True's  house  was  converted  into  a  public 
stopping  place  and  was  called  the  "Half-Mile 
House,"  being  so  named  on  account  of  its  sup- 
posed distance  from  the  court  house  site. 


258 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

The  first  term  of  the  Kankakee  County  Cir- 
cuit Court  was  held  in  the  upper  rooms  of  the 
(then)  I.  C.  freight  house.  The  term  was  held 
in  November,  1853,  Judge  Henderson,  of 
Joliet,  presiding.  The  second  term  of  this 
court  was  held  in  the  stone  part  of  the  old  Van- 
Meter  Hotel,  near  Entrance  avenue,  Judge 
Randall,  of  Joliet,  presiding.  After  this  the 
new  court  house,  built  at  a  cost  of  $27,000,  was 
occupied  by  court  and  county  officers. 

In  1858  Ketchum  &  Gray  surveyed  and 
platted  the  cemetery  north  of  town.  They  also 
built  at  their  own  expense  the  arched  stone 
bridge  over  the  Illinois  Central  tracks  at  Court 
street,  which  was  long  called  the  "Railroad 
Bridge."    This  viaduct  cost  $6,000. 

The  name  of  the  original  town,  Bourbon- 
nais,  was  changed  by  an  act  of  the  legislature 
February  15, 1855,  to  Kankakee  City,  and  sev- 
eral years  subsequently,  to  that  of  the  City  of 
Kankakee,  by  which  title  it  has  ever  since  been 
known. 

On  the  20th  of  June,  1854,  John  P.  and 
E.  P.  Gamble  located  in  Kankakee  and  com- 
menced blacksmithing  and  wagon  making. 
They  built  the  stone  shops  on  Soldier  creek, 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 259 

on  the  road  leading  to  Bourbonnais.  E.  P. 
Gamble  died  September  22,  1854. 

The  first  plow  made  in  Kankakee  was  in 
March,  1855,  and  the  first  wagon  was  made  in 
the  following  April. 

In  April,  1856,  the  first  carriage  and  buggy 
were  made  by  the  firm  of  Gamble  &  French. 
The  first  church  building  erected  was  in  1854 
by  the  Presbyterians  on  the  north  side  of  Court 
street,  between  Dearborn  and  Indiana  avenues. 
The  Rev.  William  B.  Mack,  father  of  Col. 
A.  W.  Mack,  was  the  first  settled  pastor  of 
the  church. 

Augustine  Chester  established  the  Kankakee 
Gazette  about  August  1,  1853.  The  first  edi- 
tion printed  in  Kankakee  was  by  means  of  a 
hand-press  set  up  temporarily  under  the 
spreading  branches  of  an  oak  tree,  while  many 
people  looked  on. 

The  Kankakee  Mill  Company  was  organ- 
ized in  1841,  when  David  Perry  and  Philip 
Worcester  built  the  first  dam  across  the  Kanka- 
kee river,  two  miles  below  the  city,  just  back  of 
the  present  village  of  Bourbonnais,  but  only  a 
sawmill  was  erected  at  that  time.  Thomas  R. 
VanMeter,  in  consideration  of  furnishing  the 
mill  site  with  three  acres  of  land  on  the  east  side 


260 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

of  the  river  and  hauling  timber,  was  to  own 
one-half  the  property.  Thomas  It.  sold  to  his 
brother,  Daniel  VanMeter,  who  in  1850  sold 
out  to  William  Durham,  and  in  '53  the  grist 
mill  was  begun  and  finished  in  1855. 

Pioneers  Three  and  a  Horse  Trade 

Thomas  Sammons  came  to  the  territory 
known  as  Will  county,  now  Kankakee,  in  the 
year  1834,  and  occupied  for  a  while  a  dug-out, 
located  near  Baker  creek.  He  was  not  far 
from  where  William  Baker  located  in  1832, 
and  from  him  he  obtained  supplies  from  time  to 
time.  Sammons  ranged  the  country  pretty 
thoroughly  and  at  last  settled  on  a  piece  of  land 
lying  along  the  Iroquois  river  in  what  is  now 
Otto  township,  but  which  at  that  time  was  a 
part  of  Iroquois  county.  Here  he  built  a  log 
cabin  and  in  the  years  that  followed  reared  a 
family.  Sammons  was  among  the  first  to  make 
sugar  from  the  sap  of  the  splendid  hard  maples 
that  grew  in  great  profusion  on  what  is  known 
in  this  day  as  "Sugar  Island."  He  was  an  en- 
ergetic, forceful  type,  endowed  with  business 
acumen  and  education  much  in  advance  of  the 
time.  He  was  twice  elected  sheriff  of  Iroquois 
county,  serving  in  that  capacity  from  1846  to 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 261 

1850.  During  this  time  he  conducted  a  store 
at  his  cabin  home,  which  supplied  the  settlers 
for  a  considerable  distance  around.  An  ac- 
count book  which  he  kept,  containing  a  record 
of  transactions,  shows  that  beef  in  that  day  sold 
at  4  cents  per  pound,  pork  at  2y2  cents  per 
pound,  sugar  8  cents,  coffee  40  cents,  molasses 
25  cents  per  gallon  and  whiskey  25  cents  per 
gallon.  The  goods  he  handled  were  procured 
in  Chicago  and  hauled  overland  to  his  place  on 
the  Iroquois.  The  old  account  book,  among 
other  things,  contains  interesting  personal  ob- 
servations on  various  public  questions  of  that 
day,  more  particularly  the  Mexican  War,  writ- 
ten on  some  of  the  back  pages,  indicating  that 
he  was  observant  and  of  a  critical,  analytical 
mind.  Among  other  treasures  the  old  book 
contains  were  recorded  the  details  of  a  horse- 
trade  between  himself  and  John  Cole  seventy- 
eight  years  ago.  We  present  it  herewith,  ver- 
batim et  literatum: 

"June  the  22,  1845.  John  Cole  and  myself 
traded  horses;  trade  was  to  be  unconditional. 
Came  to  my  house  on  Saturday  evening,  in- 
quiring for  two  stray  colts,  and  said  he  was 
afraid  he  had  rode  his  horse  too  far  that  day. 
In  the  morning  he  said  he  would  like  to  trade 


262 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

his  horse  if  he  thought  he  could  make  fair 
trade.  I  went  with  him  and  got  the  two  colts 
which  he  said  was  his.  Returning  home,  near 
the  house  on  the  prairie,  we  passed  by  two 
horses  which  belonged  to  me.  After  he  exam- 
ined them,  he  asked  me  if  I  would  trade  horses 
with  him.  I  told  him  I  would  if  I  thought 
I  could  make  fair  trade.  When  we  got  home 
he  asked  me  to  send  and  fetch  the  horse  up 
to  the  house.  I  did,  and  he  looked  to  the  horse 
and  rode  him  about  half  a  mile.  He  got  off  of 
him  and  looked  him  all  over,  and  asked  me  to 
say  how  we  should  trade.  I  told  him  he  should 
say,  as  he  was  the  oldest.  He  said  I  must  say. 
I  told  him  I  would  trade  if  he  would  give  me 
five  dollars.  He  said  he  could  not  give  it  but 
would  turn  tail  to  and  trade  even  if  I  would. 
I  told  him  I  would  take  at  his  offer.  When  I 
traded  my  eyes  decided  for  me,  and  I  wanted 
his  eyes  to  make  the  same  decision  for  him,  and 
if  he  would  go  in  the  house  and  state  before 
witnesses  how  we  traded,  we  would  call  it  a 
trade." 

And  that  is  one  of  the  well  authenticated  in- 
cidents of  a  summer's  day  down  on  the  Iro- 
quois seventy-eight  years  ago. 

Simeon  Sammons,  a  son,  born  at  the  old  log 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE      263 

cabin  on  the  Iroquois  in  1840,  and  who  owns 
and  still  lives  on  the  place,  tells  us  that  in  his 
youth  a  favorite  pastime  of  his  used  to  be 
swinging  from  the  top  of  the  cabin  by  means 
of  a  long  hickory  pole  to  see  how  far  he  could 
jump.  He  says  that  many  a  time  in  the  sum- 
mer, as  the  sun  dropped  down  the  western  hori- 
zon out  of  sight,  from  his  aerie  perch  on  the 
cabin  he  used  to  watch  the  deer  come  out  of  the 
woods  and  feed  on  the  prairie  in  the  cool  of  the 
evening.  Many  and  many  an  evening,  he  says, 
he  has  counted  seventy-five  to  one  hundred  deer 
feeding  in  the  open  prairie  to  the  north  and 
west  and  south  of  the  cabin. 

In  1846  two  sturdy  pioneers,  Rutledge  H. 
Enos  and  Morey  F.  Frink,  of  Michigan,  drove 
into  the  country  and  prospected  thoroughly  for 
locations  for  the  sheep  industry.  Mr.  Enos  se- 
cured holdings  at  Hickory  Grove,  now  known 
as  Milk's  Grove,  while  Mr.  Frink  selected  a 
tract  of  land  in  Pilot  Township,  near  Pilot 
Knob,  which  is  held  by  his  descendants  today. 
The  following  year  Mr.  Enos  brought  through 
a  herd  of  seven  hundred  sheep  from  Michigan, 
driving  them  overland.  He  started  with  them 
in  the  month  of  July  and  arrived  at  the  S  am- 
nions ford  on  the  Iroquois  river,  sometime  late 


264 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

in  September.  It  was  a  favorite  practice  in 
that  day  for  parties  in  eastern  Indiana,  west- 
ern Ohio  and  southern  Michigan,  to  lease  their 
herds  to  responsible  parties,  who  drove  them 
out  to  the  open  country  along  the  Kankakee 
and  the  Iroquois  rivers  where  they  could  obtain 
unlimited  range.  At  shearing-time,  the  sheep 
were  sheared  and  the  fleeces  delivered  entire 
to  the  owner  of  the  flock.  The  lessee  of  a  herd 
took  as  his  profit,  the  increase  in  the  flock,  and 
this  formed  the  basis  of  many  a  comfortable 
fortune  in  the  early  days.  As  a  youth,  the 
boy,  Simeon,  herded  sheep  for  Mr.  Enos  on 
the  prairie  at  Hickory  Grove.  He  rode  a  pony 
and  was  assisted  in  his  work  by  a  shepherd  dog. 
He  carried  with  him  as  a  first-aid  to  sheep 
stricken  by  the  bite  of  the  prairie  rattler,  a  bot- 
tle of  whiskey  in  which  had  been  placed  a  quan- 
tity of  tobacco  leaves.  He  was  obliged  to  keep 
a  sharp  lookout  for  this  dangerous  adversary 
of  the  prairie,  and  whenever  he  found  an  ani- 
mal shaking  its  head  or  its  leg  vigorously,  by 
that  sign  he  knew  it  had  been  bitten.  He  would 
wash  the  wound  with  the  decoction  of  whiskey 
and  tobacco,  and  pour  a  portion  of  it  down  the 
animal's  neck,  and  in  most  cases  it  recovered. 
Between  Mr.  Enos  and  this  grim,  early-day 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE      265 

pioneer,  Thomas  S  amnions,  the  bond  of  friend- 
ship grew  stronger  with  the  passing  years.  He 
died  while  comparatively  a  young  man,  and  in 
the  days  of  his  decline  he  used  to  say  to  Mr. 
Enos:  "When  I  send  for  you,  I  want  you  to 
come."  And  one  day,  out  at  Hickory  Grove, 
the  messenger  sought  him  with  the  word, 
"Come."  Leaving  everything,  he  made  all 
possible  haste  to  the  bedside  of  his  friend,  but 
death  had  preceded  him  by  a  few  moments. 
They  made  a  grave  for  him  on  a  sightly  emi- 
nence in  the  pasture  of  his  farm,  and  in  all  the 
valley  of  the  Kankakee,  there  is,  perhaps,  no 
fairer  view  to  be  obtained  anywhere  than  from 
this  vantage  point  with  its  miles  of  green  vistas 
dotted  with  the  forest  primeval — a  spot  which, 
after  seventy  years  of  civilization,  would  still 
delight  the  heart  of  a  pioneer. 

A  Unique  Pioneer  Character 
Mrs.  Kendall,  of  Momence,  has  told  us  how, 
as  a  little  girl,  she  was  privileged  to  go,  now 
and  then,  with  her  elders  to  a  dance  at  the  old 
Hill  Tavern.  This  tavern  played  a  prominent 
part  in  the  social  life  of  the  prairie  community 
and  the  gayety  and  pleasure  of  these  old-time 
functions  were  deeply  impressed  on  her  youth- 


266 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

ful  vision.  Enoch  Sargent,  in  1844,  built  four 
log  houses  at  Momence,  and  every  now  and 
then,  in  one  or  the  other  of  them,  there  would 
be  held  a  dance.  A  fiddler  by  the  name  of 
Blakesley  generally  furnished  the  music,  and 
set  the  crowd  going  to  the  inspiring  strains  of 
"Turkey-in-the-Straw,"  "Pop-Goes-the- Wea- 
sel' '  or  "Moneymusk."  There  was  another 
man  by  the  name  of  Bailey  who  sometimes 
played  for  the  dances.  In  1845  she  went  to 
school  in  one  of  these  log  cabins,  the  teacher 
being  none  other  than  Elim  Curtis.  The  seats 
provided  here  were  what  was  known  as  "pun- 
cheon benches,"  made  of  a  slab  cut  from  a  good 
sized  tree,  in  the  ends  of  which  holes  were  bored 
with  an  auger  and  to  which  were  fitted  legs 
made  of  saplings.  They  had  no  backs  and 
were  not  the  most  comfortable  seat  that  ever 
was. 

Here,  also,  in  the  little  log  school  house,  she 
at  times  attended  divine  services,  when  Elder 
Morrison,  a  unique  pioneer  character,  who  lived 
five  or  six  miles  north  of  Momence,  would 
preach.  One  winter  revival  meetings,  con- 
ducted by  Morrison,  were  held  in  the  log  school 
house,  and  Mrs.  Kendall  recalls  that  during 
his  discourse,  he  moved  freely  about  the  room 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 267 

as  he  talked,  and  that,  every  once  in  a  while,  as 
if  to  emphasize  his  point,  he  would  pause  and 
give  Newell  Beebe  a  resounding  whack  on  the 
back,  followed  by  the  pointed  interrogatory, 
"Ain't  that  so,  brother?" 

Elder  Morrison  was  of  a  highly  nervous  tem- 
perament, high-strung  and  energetic,  and 
whether  it  was  preaching  the  gospel,  or  the 
plain,  everyday  tasks  of  the  farm  that  engaged 
him,  he  put  his  whole  soul  into  it.  There  was 
nothing  indifferent  or  half-hearted  in  the  spirit 
that  moved  him  to  action.  It  is  related  that  he 
once  had  a  falling  out  with  miller  John  Strunk, 
at  Momence  years  ago,  over  the  matter  of  a 
grist  he  had  taken  to  the  mill  to  be  ground, 
and  an  altercation  ensued  in  which  the  elder 
was  the  aggressor.  Hauling  off  his  coat,  he 
announced  in  a  loud  voice  as  he  threw  it  on 
the  ground,  "Lay  thar,  religion,  'till  I  lick  old 
Strunk!"  And  lick  him  he  did,  and  made  no 
bones  of  polishing  up  the  miller  in  the  most 
approved  manner. 

But,  for  all  that,  our  informant  says  that  in 
the  fray,  right  and  justice  were  on  the  side  of 
the  elder.  It  is  said  that,  for  a  time,  Elder 
Morrison  served  as  one  of  the  early-day  "cir- 
cuit-riders," in  the  country  north  and  south  of 


268 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

the  Kankakee  river,  in  what  was  then  Will 
and  Iroquois  counties.  He  had  a  farm  a  few 
miles  above  Momence,  on  the  Chicago- Vin- 
cennes  road,  on  which  he  built,  in  the  early 
days,  a  large,  impressive  two-story  home  of 
stone,  which  is  still  standing  today.  Every 
pound  of  stone  in  the  building  was  hauled  la- 
boriously by  ox-team  from  the  distant  quarries 
at  Joliet,  when  there  were  quantities  of  fine 
building  stone  lying  close  by  in  the  river  bed  if 
they  had  but  realized  it.  Frequently  he  would 
hold  services  in  the  little  school  house  situated 
not  far  from  where  his  home  stands,  and  Judge 
W.  A.  Hunter  who,  as  a  boy,  knew  him  well, 
tells  us  that  on  one  occasion,  when  a  protracted 
drouth  had  all  but  burned  up  the  countryside, 
the  old  gentleman  appeared  before  a  waiting 
congregation  in  the  little  school  house,  bare- 
headed and  barefooted,  with  his  trousers  rolled 
up,  and  as  he  walked  along  the  aisle,  earnestly 
he  petitioned  the  Almighty  in  the  words,  "Give 
us  rain,  Lord,  give  us  rain!"  "Give  us  rain, 
Lord,  give  us  rain!"  It  is  to  smile,  of  course, 
when  details  such  as  these  are  related  of  the 
old  days  but,  after  all,  we  cannot  but  admire  the 
heroic  mould  of  this  pioneer  man  of  God,  rude 
and  unlettered  though  he  may  have  been,  who 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE      269 

laid  hold  with  faith  and  wrestled  with  the  angel, 
even  as  Jacob  of  old.  He  was  the  product  of 
the  time — genuine,  sincere — moved  by  a  spirit 
of  helpfulness  towards  his  fellow  man. 

The  Recollections  of  a  Nonagenarian 

Mr.  Peter  B.  S trickier,  living  on  a  farm  near 
Iroquois,  Iroquois  county,  is  a  nonagenarian 
who,  in  point  of  sprightliness,  physically  and 
mentally,  is  in  the  class  of  our  own  Judson 
Nichols.  He  told  us  last  summer,  among  other 
interesting  things,  tales  of  the  Pottawattomies 
who  occupied  the  land  by  the  hundreds  in  east- 
ern Iroquois  and  Kankakee  counties,  and  west- 
ern Indiana,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Morocco. 
He  recalled  especially  White  Pigeon,  Turkey 
Foot,  and  another  chief  whom  he  called  "Bull- 
bonnais,"  evidently  a  half-breed,  a  monster  of 
a  fellow,  whose  chief  delight,  especially  when  he 
had  any  liquor  aboard,  was  to  go  around  from 
one  to  another  and  push  them  over  on  the 
ground  and  leeringly  remark :  "You  papoose  to 
me!"  Mr.  Strickler  said  that  one  day,  in  his 
grand  rounds,  old  Bull-bonnais  ran  up  against 
an  individual  much  more  powerful  than  himself 
to  whom,  after  giving  him  an  appraising 
glance,  he  diplomatically  deferred  by  saying: 


270 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

"I  papoose  to  you!"  Mr.  Strickler  could  not 
recall  the  name  of  the  chief  to  whom  Bull- 
bonnais  so  readily  struck  his  colors.  Who 
knows  but  that  it  may  have  been  none  other 
than  our  giant  friend  "Tah-way,"  of  whom 
Mrs.  Lyons,  of  Sherburnville,  has  told  us? 
Wau-coc-shuc  is  another  notable  Pottawat- 
tomie  chief  whom  he  remembers  well. 

Mr.  Strickler  relates  that  shortly  after  com- 
ing to  Iroquois  county,  which  was  October  7th, 
1835,  a  number  of  Indians  engaged  in  a  drunk- 
en fight  in  which  knives  were  used,  the  scrim- 
mage lasting  through  several  days,  as  a  result 
of  which  several  Indians  lost  their  lives.  This 
fight  took  place  at  a  point  this  side  of  Morocco, 
Indiana.  It  may  have  been  that  the  doughty 
old  chief  "Min-e-mau-ung,"  or  Yellow  Head, 
lost  his  life  in  this  long-drawn-out  conflict,  for 
the  trader,  Gurdon  S.  Hubbard,  who  had  a  fight 
with  him  at  "Bunkum"  in  the  spring  of  1827, 
mentions  in  his  memoirs  that  he  was  thus  killed, 
but  gives  no  intimation  as  to  the  time  or  place. 
Yellow  Head  was  a  signer  of  the  treaty  of 
1832,  and  his  name  also  appears  on  a  later 
treaty,  that  concluded  September  26th,  1833, 
and  ratified  February  21,  1835.  These  record- 
ed acts  of  Yellow  Head  tend  to  give  color  to 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 271 

the  supposition  that  he  was  involved  in  the  fray 
so  vividly  recalled  by  Mr.  S trickier. 

On  Mr.  Strickler's  advent  into  the  prairie 
country  of  Iroquois  county  in  1835,  he  recalls 
that  the  "hickory  lines  and  bridles,"  in  vogue 
among  the  earliest  of  the  pioneers,  were  very 
much  in  evidence  at  that  time.  The  tough, 
pliable  fiber  of  the  young  hickory  was  well 
adapted  to  these  uses  and  lasted  for  a  long 
time,  especially  if  the  fiber  were  kept  from 
drying  out  by  frequent  moistenings  or  by  bury- 
ing the  hickory  lines  in  the  moist  earth  over 
night.  In  that  day  they  used  to  drive  six  yoke 
of  cattle  hitched  to  a  wagon,  from  Iroquois  to 
Chicago,  going  by  way  of  the  Chicago- Vin- 
cennes  Trail,  which  crossed  the  Kankakee  river 
one  mile  east  of  Momence  where,  at  that  time, 
was  located  the  famous  pioneer  hostelry  known 
as  the  "Hill  Tavern."  The  first  bridge  built 
across  the  Kankakee  at  that  point  was  a  boon 
to  the  prairie  settler,  and  served  to  lighten  his 
burdens  while  on  the  road,  to  a  very  perceptible 
degree.  The  logs  for  this  bridge  were  cut  and 
floated  down  the  river  to  this  point,  where  they 
were  squared  and  framed  and  gotten  in  readi- 
ness. When  everything  was  in  readiness  for 
the  "raising,"  as  it  was  termed  in  that  day, 


%n LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

word  was  sent  out  far  and  near  and  the  settlers 
responded  and  gave  of  their  time  and  labor  in 
erecting  the  bridge.  This  bridge  was  built 
during  the  early  forties.  Later,  with  the  com- 
ing of  the  Illinois  Central  railroad  in  1853,  the 
Hill  Tavern  was  moved  to  Momence  and  for 
many  years  stood  across  the  street  from  the 
Charles  B.  Astle  home.  It  is  said  that  some  of 
the  timbers  of  the  old  bridge  are  still  discern- 
able  in  the  bed  of  the  stream  a  mile  east  of  Mo- 
mence where  it  formerly  stood. 

Historical  Flotsam  and  Jetsam 

The  assessor's  and  tax  collector's  books  of 
Iroquois  county,  for  the  years  1847-48,  shows 
the  following  list  of  land  owners  in  Town  31, 
range  11  east,  which  is  the  present  town  of 
Limestone,  Kankakee  county : 

George  W.  Byrns,  N.  W.  Bliss,  Sylvester 
Brown,  J.  F.  Coterel,  E.  Edwards,  J.  B.  Haw- 
kins, J.  and  R.  Hawkins,  A.  Hawkins,  A.  M. 
Howland,  Robert  Hawkins,  William  Neal,  N. 
D.  Maxwell,  Roswell  Nichols,  James  R.  Pow- 
ell, Hannah  Powell,  James  Rounceville,  W.  D. 
Scott,  P.  S.  S locum,  J.  L.  Smith,  E.  H.  S am- 
nions, Daniel  Huling. 

It  is  worthy  of  record  in  a  work  of  this  de- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 273 

scription  that  Fred  Bernier  was  the  first  citizen 
from  Kankakee  county  to  enlist  in  the  civil 
war.  He  was  a  volunteer,  and  went  from 
Kankakee  to  Chicago,  where  he  enlisted.  He 
served  with  distinction  and,  when  mustered 
out  of  the  service,  had  earned  the  rank  of  Cap- 
tain. 

Mr.  R.  A.  Hewitt  tells  us  that  during  the 
years  he  carried  on  business  and  lived  in  Chi- 
cago, he  got  to  know  well  a  man  by  the  name 
of  Watson,  a  harnessmaker  by  trade,  whose 
business  was  located  on  West  Madison  street, 
between  Oakley  and  Leavitt  streets.  Wat- 
son, who  liked  to  tell  of  his  early-day  experi- 
ences, told  Mr.  Hewitt  how  he  built  the  third 
habitation  erected  within  the  limits  of  the  pres- 
ent city  of  Kankakee  in  the  early  fifties.  It 
was  merely  a  shack,  he  said,  but  it  was  the  third 
dwelling  of  any  kind  to  be  built  at  that  time. 
He  made  good  money,  he  said,  during  the  days 
when  the  Illinois  Central  was  bringing  in  the 
settlers.  He  owned  a  team  and  used  to  drive 
parties  far  and  wide  over  the  prairies  while 
they  viewed  the  land  and  made  their  selections. 
Mr.  Watson,  when  something  over  eighty  years 
old,  made  a  trip  up  into  Wisconsin  one  winter, 
and  walked  ten  miles  into  the  country  to  the 


274 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

home  of  a  friend.  While  walking  back  to  the 
station,  through  a  heavy  snowstorm,  he 
dropped  dead  in  the  road.  Careful  inquiry 
among  the  present  day  old  settlers  of  Kanka- 
kee failed  to  elicit  any  information  concerning 
Watson,  however. 

Mr.  Skelly,  of  Aroma  Park,  says  that  early 
in  1855,  when  they  were  excavating  for  the 
court  house  foundations,  he  used  to  put  in  a 
good  deal  of  time  there,  a  highly  interested 
spectator,  watching  the  workmen  throw  out 
pieces  of  human  bones,  tomahawks,  brass  ket- 
tles and  rusted  parts  of  guns  that  had  been 
buried  there  along  with  their  Indian  owners 
years  ago.  This  open  spot  on  the  prairie, 
where  now  stands  the  present  handsome  coun- 
ty structure,  was  formerly  a  burial  ground  of 
the  Pottawattomies,  and  many  hundreds, 
doubtless,  were  interred  there. 

Newton,  Lindsley  &  De Graff  constituted 
the  contracting  firm  who  put  through  the  work 
on  the  Illinois  Central  railroad  from  Chicago  to 
Champaign  in  the  early  fifties.  As  the  work 
approached  Kankakee  (there  was  no  Kanka- 
kee in  that  day),  the  main  base  of  operations 
for  the  company  was  located  on  the  south  bank 
of  the  river,  at  a  point  called  Sacramento  City. 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 275 

This  contracting  firm  brought  to  the  prairie 
region  of  Kankakee  county  the  very  first  Mor- 
gan horses.  The  horses  employed  on  the  work 
were  in  charge  of  one  Milo  June,  a  typical 
down-east  Yankee  and  an  old-time  stage- 
driver.  Many  oxen  were  also  employed  and 
C.  C.  Harvey,  an  expert  shoer  of  oxen,  was 
located  over  at  Sacramento  City,  where  a  forge 
was  maintained  and  where  Harvey  attended 
to  the  shoeing  of  the  cattle  as  required. 

No  one  knows  why  the  company  in  that  early 
day  chose  to  go  six  and  one-half  miles  down  the 
river,  to  Limestone,  to  quarry  the  stone  needed 
in  the  bridges  and  culverts  and  other  work  of 
the  road.  But  the  fact  remains  that  they  did, 
and  for  a  long  time  two  four-horse  teams  and 
an  outfit  of  four  yoke  of  oxen  toiled  daily 
bringing  in  their  loads  from  the  quarry  to  Sac- 
ramento City,  where  stone-cutters  prepared  the 
material  and  shipped  it  north  or  south  as  the 
occasion  demanded.  The  horse  teams  made 
two  trips  a  day.  The  oxen,  in  charge  of  "Un- 
cle John"  Van  Wert,  made  but  one  trip.  Mr. 
Elias  Powell,  then  a  young  man,  secured  the 
very  first  stone  taken  from  this  quarry  at  the 
time  it  was  opened,  and  has  it  among  other 
treasured  possessions  today.    If  you  are  at  all 


276 LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF 

curious  about  it  and  ask  him,  he  will  take  you 
out  into  the  back  yard  of  his  Indiana  Avenue 
home  and  show  you  a  piece  of  yellow  limestone 
about  12x18x6,  nicely  shaped  up  with  a  stone- 
cutters' chisel,  the  interior  hollowed  out  and 
containing  a  water  supply  for  the  birds  and 
dogs  and  cats  of  the  neighborhood.  Every 
stone  which  the  Central  so  laboriously  trans- 
ported years  ago  on  the  division  has  long  since 
given  way  to  cement,  but  this  very  first  of  all 
the  stones  from  the  old  Limestone  quarry  still 
serves  in  its  humble,  helpful  capacity  as  a  reser- 
voir to  assuage  the  thirst  of  the  nondescript 
alley  cat  or  dog,  and  as  a  bath  for  the  birds. 

Situated  at  the  corner  of  South  Washington 
avenue  and  Jeff ery  street,  is  said  to  be  a  build- 
ing, incorporated  in  what  is  now  the  home  of 
Lum  Piper,  which  antedates  any  other  build- 
ing in  Kankakee.  This  building  was  a  small 
wooden  shack  bult  by  Milo  June  in  the  days 
of  the  construction  of  the  railroad,  and  used 
as  a  cook  house.  It  was  built  at  Sacramento 
City  and  moved  from  place  to  place  south  by 
loading  it  on  a  flat-car.  The  shack  traveled  as 
far  as  the  division,  Champaign,  and,  for  some 
unaccountable  reason,  was  loaded  on  the  car 
and  brought  back  to  Kankakee,  or  more  prop- 


HOMELAND  ON  THE  KANKAKEE 277 

erly,  Sacramento  City.  In  the  course  of  time 
it  was  shifted  over  to  the  corner,  not  far  away, 
and  became  a  part  of  the  home  now  standing 
there,  where  it  has  successfully  withstood  the 
vicissitudes  of  time  and  decay.  The  property 
is  owned  by  William  Cunningham. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS-URBANA 

977.363B94L  C001 

LEGENDS  AND  TALES  OF  HOMELAND  ON  THE  KAN 


w 


3  0112  025394906 


